On our recent trip to Ontario, I picked up a new hobby: birder watching. I observed people observing birds. I watched the “birder dance,” the way people lean and twist and crouch, trying to catch a glimpse of an elusive bird. When they do finally see the object of their desire, an unconscious smile spreads across their faces. They stand and stare, content and in love. The expression on their faces is as beautiful as the birds themselves. It is an honest portrayal of joy.
Birding and birder watching are so satisfying, in part, due to the constant anticipation of seeing something marvelous. Something so fleeting and ephemeral that it mostly eludes our perception. Just often enough, we get to spend a few seconds in the presence of beauty. That is what draws us into nature. Our love for birds is a reflection of our love for all life. Birdwatchers are in tune with our primal need for connection. Three hundred thousand years of evolution as homo sapiens have wired us to seek connection with like-minded groups of people and with nature. That is what birding offers and why it is so compelling. It fills a deep need in our psyche.
The Little Prince knew this. He said, "What is essential is invisible to the eye." We do not need to see the birds so much as to feel them, to be in their presence. That is why being surrounded by birdsong is so healing. It soothes our souls.
My wife Mercy and I recently spent two weeks being soothed by birds in Ontario. One of our favorite places to visit was the Long Point peninsula on the north shore of Lake Erie. Our first stop was at the nearby Birds Canada headquarters. We picked up trail maps and got advice on where to start birdwatching. They told us we had to visit the Long Point Bird Observatory (LPBO), their field station a little farther down the peninsula.
The Observatory is strategically located in a small woodland next to a marsh that is connected to Lake Erie. The land here pinches down to a thin strip—like the narrow part of an hourglass. Birds heading north during migration cross Lake Erie and land at the first opportunity—the southern tip of the peninsula. They then move up the peninsula, where they congregate at the LPBO.
We saw no sign of birdwatchers as we drove down the peninsula to our cabin, but it was a cold, gray, windy day. Not the best conditions. The next morning, we got up early and headed to the LPBO. We passed large campgrounds, marinas, and stores before turning left onto Old Cut Boulevard. We drove slowly as we rolled up to the Long Point Bird Observatory. The small gray building and a sign in the yard told us we were in the right spot.
Just beyond the sign was a gravel parking lot full of potholes, water, mud, and bird watchers. Big groups were standing still, and some were strolling along the edge of the woods. All of them were looking straight up. They were smiling and completely absorbed in birdwatching.
At that moment, I realized birding culture thrives on the margins. Birdwatchers are often out of sight of the mainstream, frequenting muddy parking lots and other out-of-the-way places. As I watched people walk through puddles in their sensible shoes, I thought, “These are my people.” Many wore floppy hats and had khaki pants tucked into their socks. They were adorned with binoculars and cameras. They moved slowly. They spoke quietly. This is a place where I fit in.
We walked up to a big group of birders to see what was drawing the crowd. As we became still, we were enveloped in birdsong. I looked at the trees and smiled. I understood why the birdwatchers were content; we were being serenaded by spring love songs.
After a few minutes of acclimating to the joyous atmosphere, we walked over to the visitors’ center. We were promptly greeted by a volunteer who told us about the observatory's history and oriented us to the property. The observatory is a project of Birds Canada and is one of the oldest bird banding stations in North America. They have been banding birds since 1960. LPBO is part of an international network of researchers, and visiting scientists come here to conduct research.
Bird banding is a delicate art. The banders must be extremely gentle when placing the small metal bands on the birds’ legs. This identification tag helps scientists better understand bird movement and population trends. Banding also helps the public appreciate birds. A bird in the hand is very compelling.
I still remember what it felt like to hold Lazuli Buntings when I worked on a research project in Montana during college. I could feel their heartbeats. Their tiny toes scratched my skin as they looked into my eyes. We mist-netted and banded them to better understand factors that affected mate selection, paternity, and site fidelity. One of the many fascinating things we learned is that pairs of buntings would return from their wintering grounds in Mexico and nest in the same shrub year after year.
Like the buntings, many volunteers return yearly to support the LPBO. I appreciated the directness, humor, and honesty in their statement recruiting volunteers.
"LPBO offers extensive training as part of our volunteer experience. LPBO relies very heavily on volunteer assistance in one form or another to deliver our programs.
If you thrive in situations that could involve isolation, communal living, long hours, physical exertion, bugs, the heat, the cold, irregular supplies of fresh food, and rustic working conditions, then this may be the sort of experience for you. If you have a passion for birds, wild storms, pristine habitats, some of the best birding in North America, snakes, frogs, and butterflies, we'd love to hear from you."
After our orientation, we set out to walk the trails, and as we approached the crowd around the banding station, I saw a hand slowly rise above people's heads. The bird bander was holding a Yellow Warbler. I watched as the warbler was released, took flight, and quickly disappeared into the shrubs. We followed the warbler and walked down the trail parallel to a long mist net strung up between tall metal poles. The net had slack built into it, which formed little pockets. The birds could not see the fine mesh, and they became entangled if they flew into it. At first, seeing birds in the nets was disconcerting, but we were reassured once we saw how quickly the volunteers made their rounds and safely removed them.
The trail entered a one-and-a-half-acre woods dominated by spruce and pine trees with an understory of Red-osier Dogwood and other native shrubs.
We stopped and listened in a small clearing. Bay-breasted, Magnolia, Yellow, and Blackburnian Warblers sang while foraging in the canopy. We caught glimpses of the warblers as we made our way through the woods. It was an enchanting scene. We eventually circled back to the banding station, where we came up behind a group of volunteers carrying small cloth bags containing one bird apiece.
We watched as the banders very carefully removed birds from the bags. The first bird they pulled out was a brilliant yellow, tiny, and vivacious Magnolia Warbler. I was captivated, and over the next three days, we visited the banding station often to see birds up close.
The banders follow standard protocols for collecting data on overall mass, sex, age, wing chord (which is the distance from the wrist joint to the tip of the longest primary feather, with the wing bent at a 90-degree angle), body fat index, breeding status, and molt status. They also put small, lightweight metal bands on the bird’s legs. These serve as an identification tag, and if the bird is recaptured at another banding station, the process of data collection is repeated, and that data is entered into a database that is available to all bird researchers.
This process takes a couple of minutes. When they finish, they release the bird through a little swinging door above the banding station desk. Occasionally, they bring the bird outside and hold it up for admiring birdwatchers. Some birds are feisty, while others appear relatively still.
Our last visit to the LPBO was in the evening when the visitor center and banding station were closed. There were only two other birders in the woods. One had been working at the banding station all morning and was still compelled to watch birds into the evening.
We made our way to the western edge of the woods, where the trees were bathed in the soft light of the setting sun. We found two Cape May Warblers in a mixed flock and observed them for 15 minutes.
The head bander came down the trail on her way to scan for birds on an observation platform overlooking the lake. She casually remarked that she had just seen a Black-throated Blue Warbler back by the first mist net. It was one of the few species that we had really hoped to see on this trip!
We walked down the trail and scanned the Dogwood shrubs in that area, trying to relocate our prize warbler. After a few minutes, I returned to the sunlit spruce and pine trees while Mercy stayed behind to continue scanning the area. As soon as I got back to the woods, I noticed a black and white bird in the shadows on the trunk of a spruce. My first impression was that it was a White-breasted Nuthatch, but when I found the bird in my binoculars, I was surprised to see a Black-throated Blue.
I walked back down the trail and motioned for Mercy to join me. When she arrived, I described the location of the Black-throated Blue Warbler, and I watched as she searched for the stunningly beautiful little warbler with her binoculars. I knew she found him when I saw a smile spread across her face. We both spoke in excited and hushed tones as we described how beautiful it was in the soft light. An innate joy bubbled up within us. We paused and felt deep gratitude for the birds, this place, and the entire community of bird lovers that make experiences like this possible.
I do not live happily or comfortably
with the cleverness of our times
The talk is all about computers,
the news is all about bombs and blood.
This morning, in the fresh field,
I came upon a hidden nest.
It held four warm, speckled eggs.
I touched them.
Then went away softly,
having felt something more wonderful
than all the electricity of New York City.
Mary Oliver
What a powerful essay! I feel like birds are earths messengers connecting us all, if we listen. It seems universal.
I am listening to the birds wake up in Austin today, and I thank you for this written gift reminding me to have hope and persist in the fight for climate justice.
It’s for the birds.
Thank you so much Bill and Mercy for taking us all along on your birding trip to the Long Point Bird Observatory of Ontario Canada. Wow! What a wonderful example of preserving a bird pathway for migrating birds. So perfect to see a place for new and old birders and BIRDS!! I suspect there will be more trips to this wonderful place.