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WORDS ON BIRDS
Spreading The Bird-Love: A Father's Day Tribute,
Part Two
July 12, 2008
by Melissa Grinley This is a follow-up to last
week's column. My daughter, Melissa, wrote this one for Father's Day
2003. It is self-explanatory:
Last year, I wrote a piece for 'Words on Birds' for my dad for
Father's Day. This year, he asked if I would do it again. This worried
me, as I said pretty much all I had to say about birds in the first
column. For those of you who missed it, let me sum up. I spent a good
deal of space making fun of my dad's strange superhuman ability to
spot and hear creatures (birds) which, in my opinion (which I should
mention is based on fact), are very small and prone to flying away. I
then discussed how he managed to drag me to the reserve in Salisbury
and I ended up seeing a couple of birds up close, which both helped me
to appreciate the hobby of birding and feel closer to my dad.
Questions that have arisen since, according to my dad,
mostly relate to whether this experience has led me to "become a
birder", or become at least "more interested in birds". The short
answer, "not quite". I did have one bird sighting in the last year
that was rather monumental. Although my dad is an avid birder, and I
have been living in Washington State for the last five years, I had
never seen a bald eagle. (Imagine the look on my dad's face when I
dmitted that. "You've never seen one? It's the national bird!" Here I
wanted to point out that if Benjamin Franklin had gotten his way, the
national bird would have been the turkey, and I've seen plenty of
those.)
This past fall, on a trip to Victoria, British
Columbia, I was walking with a friend and came across several people
looking up at the sky. I immediately recognized the intent gazing as
that of the birdwatcher and asked them what they were looking at. When
they told me it was a bald eagle, I became excited. I looked where
they were looking and saw nothing. One person pointed. "On that
branch, second from the top." I squinted and strained. I stood over
their shoulder to follow the angle of their arm and finger. Nothing.
It took four people pointing for about 10 minutes but finally, I saw
it, and felt a thrill.
This story illustrates an important point: why I have
not become an avid birder. I believe there are several qualities of
the birder that I do not possess. First, birders (and particularly my
dad) have the ability to notice small details in the environment. I
have a hard enough time noticing the obvious. It has happened more
than once that I have been in a car with someone and we have passed
something interesting (e.g. a man dressed as Elvis) and when they
point it out I search, crying 'Where? Where???' and completely miss
it.
Second, birders have a fairly long attention span. In
order to really see a bird well, you have to wait until it does
something such as fly or move, which could take up to half an hour.
Birds often sit doing nothing for long periods of time, and therefore,
so do birders. I have the attention span of a small child. Third, a
good birder must have patience. From what I have seen, birdwatching
requires a lot of waiting, standing, and looking, and it is possible
you could go a whole day without seeing anything interesting. But an
avid birdwatcher won't give up, and they'll try again. I have barely
enough patience to get through an entire game of bowling, and even in
that I am actually doing something.
I also believe there is a quality that sets the bird
hobbyist apart from the rest of the crowd: a vision of the nature of
birds that goes beyond the average person. What I will fondly refer to
as the 'Bird-Love'. Bird-Love can cause someone like my dad to quit
years of corporate work and open a store dedicated to the art of
birdwatching. Bird-Love inspires the annual bird-a-thon, which I
understand requires those affected with Bird-Love to spend 24 hours
identifying birds for a good cause (although I have a theory that
Bird-Love people would do this anyway, and the fundraising is a guise
in order to give it a purpose and make it appear sane to the common
man).
I talked to my friend Amber about the idea of
Bird-Love, and she promptly told me that she thinks she can talk to
birds. I was a bit taken aback as I have been friends with her for
about five years and wasn't aware she was insane. I asked her to
elaborate. Here, paraphrased, is her story:
"I have a garden on Anderson Island [in Puget Sound,
near Seattle] that I spend a lot of time working in on the weekends.
There are lots of birds around, mostly robins, starlings, sparrows,
but there is this one robin, a big fat red breasted one, who started
hanging around last summer. It was strange, I'd be working in the
garden and it would just sit near me, for hours at a time. It would
leave and come back, and I was sure it was the same robin. I began
talking to this robin."
At this point in the story, I interrupt and ask her
how, exactly, she 'talked' to this bird. She demonstrated her bird
talk: She made these clicking, seething sounds using her front teeth
and lower lip. I struggled to keep a straight face and she continued.
"So this robin is hanging around all the time. I would
make the sounds and he'd turn his head, then start hopping a little
closer to me, like he understood. Stop laughing at me! He never flew
away, he'd pull a worm and sit next to me and eat it." She then added
(without any embarrassment), "I sing to him too sometimes."
In 'bird-talk'?" I asked incredulously. She said no,
that she sang in English, but the bird seemed to really like it,
cocking its head and listening intently. I commented that the bird
must be quite worldly, being bilingual and all. For some reason, she
didn't want to continue the conversation with me.
It's not that I don't believe her. I think it is
definitely possible that Amber has some Snow White connection with
woodland creatures. She is a very caring, warm, quiet person, and
perhaps they sense a calmness about her that is different from the
bustle of ordinary humans and therefore find her approachable.
However, this is definitely not a quality that resides in me, and the
idea of talking to any bird that came near me in a similar situation
would never cross my mind.
So although I don't share the Bird-Love, I appreciate
those who do. I admire the vigilance and stamina that my dad and other
birders possess. Though I may seem cynical and sarcastic about
birdwatching, I do think of it as a skill and art.
One more note-Amber's robin story reminded me of
another favorite quirk of my dad's that I thought would be nice to
share with you all, in the hopes that maybe you'll swing by his store
and make a request. He talks in Duck. Meaning he makes these noises
through the side of his mouth that sound like a mixture of the common
mallard and Donald Duck. It's quite a talent. He has done this as long
as I can remember, and I picked it up at an early age. It is the one
aspect of Bird-Love I have acquired from my dad. In fact, we've held
entire conversations, back and forth, in Duck. When this happens in
public, it causes many heads to turn. So do it. Go to the store, ask
my dad to talk in Duck for you. I am sure he will, and will think
twice next year about having me write a guest column. Steve Grinley
Bird Watcher's Supply & Gift and Nature Shop at Joppa Flats
Newburyport, MA
BirdWSG@Verizon.net
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