Birds Are the Most Interesting Thing

My First Year on Substack

Jan 12, 2024

I started writing on Substack in January 2023. The birds have taken me on quite a journey over the past year. This essay is about my year of writing and how, in my quest to understand birds, I came to understand myself. My sense of self and life have changed dramatically over the past year. If you looked at my life trajectory, you would not predict that it would lead to Substack. I served in the infantry in the army out of high school and then worked as a biologist, organic vegetable farmer, local food systems Extension agent, and now an agroforester. I studied birds in college, and I've always been fascinated by them, but I focused on plants and the local food movement for most of my career. I was physically active, primarily working outdoors, and my identity was wrapped up in my accomplishments.

My noisy outdoor life caught up with me in the fall of 2018. Mortar rounds, chainsaws, guns, and motors led to me developing tinnitus. After the sudden onset of this mysterious ailment, I began a long, slow, and often painful process of becoming more sensitive, letting my ego fade into the background, and becoming more open to new ideas and experiences.

This coincided with the pandemic creating more space in my life, and I filled that space with birds. It was a beautiful reunion. However, the stress of the pandemic and the changes I was experiencing led to what I have come to see as an unraveling of sorts, a midlife chrysalis or metamorphosis that led me to emerge anew and ask who I am now, what is most important to me, and what am I capable of doing.

One of the answers that emerged aligns with the sentiment of John Hay - "Strange to have come through the whole century and find that birds are the most interesting thing."

I became less fixated on doing and on productivity and put more effort into being present in the moment. I found myself being less driven by my ego and more driven by my soul. This was disorienting, but on some deep level, it also felt right.

The ringing in my head helped me to pause, slow down, and reckon with my unresolved psychological issues. I was not sure who I was apart from the hobbies and work that I loved, but now I had to change, and I initially perceived that change as a loss. One of the first things I did was to put down my guns and power tools and pick up a camera. I went for a walk in the woods and discovered that slowing down, learning to be quiet, and paying attention to birds opened up a whole new world, a world I was meant to inhabit. This turned out to be a positive change that set a new trajectory for my life.

A pivotal moment on this journey occurred when I listened to the Rich Roll podcast #444 One Year No Beer with Andy Ramage. Rich and Andy discussed how alcohol ruins your sleep and limits your potential. After listening to this podcast, I decided to stop drinking alcohol and make better choices that would help me get a good night's sleep. These included growing herbs and drinking herbal tea, running, meditating, doing Tai Chi, and taking pictures of birds.

Rich Roll’s latest podcast provides an update on the One Year No Beer organization. I found this one to be very compelling! Andrew Huberman also weighed in on the damaging effects of alcohol in this podcast which currently has 5.9 million views. Can you tell I am a fan of being sober? It could unleash so much human potential if more people were aware of the full consequences of drinking and how to break free. My experience has been that if you are brave and take steps to become sober, you will attract new friends to support you. Some of your existing friends will also likely be supportive, even if others will not.

Soon after I quit drinking, I started waking up at 4 a.m., full of energy. I began posting photos of birds on Facebook and Instagram. Then, I read The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron, and my life was forever changed. Rich Roll and many of his podcast guests mentioned this book and how much it helped them become more creative. I certainly did not consider myself to be an artist, but I read the book and started writing in a daily journal. At first, staring at the pages was daunting, and I could barely fill the lines with random thoughts. But I kept at it, and my thoughts and writing began to flow over time.

A Walk of Snipe from Birds by Brian Wildsmith

I was motivated by one of the key ideas in The Artist's Way - that every person is creative, and we all have gifts to give. Julia Cameron also explains how the creative act is the end goal. You can write purely for the act of self-expression. And that is enough in and of itself. Embracing this perspective helped me to feel like I was enough, which was a big shift after spending my life up to this point thinking I did not deserve to belong.

Another big hurdle I managed to get over at this time was going to therapy. I resisted the idea and saw it as a sign of weakness. I was wrong; it is a sign of strength. Therapy has helped me work through many issues, and that led to me realizing who I am and what is important to me. Talk therapy and Eye Movement Desensitisation and Reprocessing (EMDR) proved to be particularly helpful in changing the way I think. Learning more about myself helped me appreciate the human condition in general, and I started introducing more relational human experiences into my stories about birds.

That was the beginning of my writing. I was 48 years into this journey we call life. I spent a couple of years writing posts to accompany my photos on Facebook but became increasingly frustrated with that platform. I briefly tried writing on Medium but did not get any traction. Then I noticed that Charles Eisenstein had started writing on Substack, and since Charles is one of my heroes, I decided to try it. Setting up my account and asking people to pay for a subscription was a huge step for me. I kept telling myself that this was part of discovering what I was capable of, and “What am I capable of?” became my guiding question.

I could tell right away that Substack was different; writers helping writers and the literary audience were a beautiful combination. About this time, my relationship with birds was changing, too. I read What the Robin Knows by Jon Young, and I started appreciating common birds, and the whole world opened up to me. I realized that birds are more than birds. They are a portal that could open up and allow me to swim through an ocean of grief to the shore, where I could get my footing and connect with life. The more I paid attention, the more interesting birds became. This was the beginning of a lovely virtuous cycle that began with me asking: What is that bird doing? The answer is living a fascinating life beyond our understanding while being beautiful.

A Party of Jays from Birds by Brian Wildsmith

For the first eight months of writing on Substack, I had a core group of a few hundred people that slowly grew. I still was not sure if I was a good writer at that point. On August 25, I published an essay entitled What an Owl Knows. Substack featured this essay in their weekly email, and I added 1,000 new subscribers in a day. That was an amazing and very affirming experience. It helped me to see that I was, in fact, a writer. This post now has 21,000 views.

About this time, I often reflected on how I felt like a conduit for the creative energy in the universe. I'd started adding poems to the end of my essays, and I routinely had the experience of poems finding me. I would write an essay and have a sense of the kind of poem I wanted to add to it. I would turn to my poetry books and think, “Rumi seems like a good match.” I would then open a book of Rumi poems and flip through a few pages. There before me would be a stunning poem that was a perfect match for my essay. This synchronicity happened again and again.

So, now I am a writer, and the universe is on my side. But am I a good writer? Two weeks ago, I got another email from Substack saying I was mentioned in one of their posts. I read the list of famous people describing their favorite writers on Substack. I got down toward the end, and there was no mention of me. The last person on the list was Margaret Atwood, and I found my name and my owl essay among her list of favorites on Substack in 2023. I stared at my name next to Heather Cox Richardson and was stunned.

I couldn't believe it. My first thought was, are you kidding me? This is such an honor and validation for my writing. Upon further reflection, it also seems to me to be a sign. I often turn to the Bedside Book of Birds by Graeme Gibson, Margaret Atwood's late husband, as a source of inspiration. The stories in this book highlight our profound connection to birds across the centuries. This is another instance of the universe conspiring to elevate birds in our consciousness. We are a merry band of bird lovers entwined with history. We are one small thread in this magnificent tapestry of iridescent feathers and love.

I am now even more motivated to advocate for the birds. I plan to find more ways to collaborate with others around birds, art, conservation, writing, and photography. I also hope my work can inspire others to follow their calling, take small risks for what they love, and realize their potential. If I can write, you can do what you feel called to do. Just remember that the journey is the end goal, and it is gratifying to begin by taking small steps toward your dreams.

The whole time these amazing things have been happening, there has been a little voice in my head telling me I am not good enough. Now, I acknowledge the refrain and respond to my small, scared self by thanking him for trying to protect me. I maintain a certain psychological distance and pause often to make sure I remain open to possibilities. I now embrace being uncomfortable rather than running from it. When I reside on the edge of my comfort zone, good things happen.

The edge of my comfort zone now orbits around writing a book. People often tell me I should "write a book," but I am unsure how to begin. I want to publish a collection of my essays and photos. I'm learning more about publishing but am still looking for an opening or way to engage in the process. If anyone has advice on how to begin publishing a book, I would appreciate learning more.

Many people have helped me on this journey. My wife, Mercy, is a gifted writer and editor, and she edits my writing and supports me in myriad ways. My son Noah is a wizard with computers and serves as my IT department. My son Ben is a mathematician and philosopher who questions my assumptions and helps me write more clearly. Your comments and feedback are what keep me going. It is very reassuring to know that there is a group of fellow bird lovers out there who care and who are working to support birds and nature.

Thank you for reading my writing and appreciating my photographs. I am very grateful for your support. Substack has helped me to discover who I really am. The process of writing has broken down old ways of thinking and helped release me from the critical narratives I held about myself. Writing helped me to open up and become more fluid, receptive, and in tune with what matters most to me, and it was all guided and encouraged by your comments and feedback. Joining Substack felt like coming home to a family of kindred spirits, and I find that to be incredibly comforting, reassuring, and hopeful.

As I was wrapping up this essay, I listened to a Tara Brach podcast on the sacred pause, and she ended with a poem from Pablo Neruda. Once again, the universe delivered a remarkable, prescient gem, a true gift of a poem that is calling us all to sit and be still. May we all do our part in 2024 to come together, see beneath the labels, and experience a huge silence that will help us appreciate our shared humanity.

Keeping Quiet

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
for once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.

Pablo Neruda

Easy By Nature

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