Berries exert a magnetic pull on birds this time of year. Spending quality time among dogwood, viburnum, and cherry takes you to the margin between human and nonhuman worlds, where you can catch intimate glimpses of birds.
This liminal space between worlds is a good place to be. Life in the mainstream can be dangerous and disorienting. The fast current can sweep you away. Easing into the sidestream takes you into swirling eddies and placid pools, where you can reflect on the lives of animals and observe them up close.
In solitude, or in that deserted state, when we are surrounded by human beings, and yet they sympathize, not with us, we love the flowers, the grass and the waters and the sky. In the motion of the very leaves of spring in the blue air there is then found a secret correspondence with our heart .
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Early morning is a good time to be in the margins. It helps to be intentional and focused, and it is best not to fill your head with the news of the day from the human world. Much better is to note the happenings in the animal world. Blue-winged teal have arrived from the north; House Wrens have fallen silent; Great-crested Flycatchers and American Redstarts are passing through; Spicebush is loaded with fruit.
A cherry tree in the early morning light is a portal to another realm. Right there next to the powerlines, by the baseball field, surrounded by bush honeysuckle with unleashed dogs racing by. It awaits those with the eyes to see. Those who can tune in despite myriad distractions. The colors of ripeness, red and black, attract a crowd. Robins, Gray-headed Catbirds, Cardinals, Red-eyed Vireos, American Redstarts, Great-crested Flycatchers, and Blue Jays are all feasting upon the berries and the insects they attract. This common tree is a source of sustenance for birds and people; it is an uncommon delight.
Birds can eat their body weight in berries in a day. Cedar Waxwings can eat twice that! This would be like a person eating 300# of berries in a day. (I am trying to visualize what 300# of berries would look like.) This shows you how fast a bird's metabolism is and why they need a lot of native plants around to support them as they go about their daily routine and embark on epic migrations.
I walk up to the cherry tree and stand in the shadows, partially obscured by the canopy, and I become still. I cast my gaze to the ground, and I wait. It does not take long. A tut-tut call and a shaking branch tell me a robin has flown into the tree. They cannot resist the fruit. I stay back and look through the leaves. If you lean out for a clear view, the birds will hang back. Better to let them commit and become comfortable with your presence.
Body language and intention matter. I do not make direct eye contact, and I move slowly. It can be hard to slow down. You have to think about it, focus on it, and practice. Even when you think you are moving slowly, you probably are not. Watch a heron hunt, and you can see what slow is. Their movement is barely discernable.
With a little patience and slowness, the boundary between you and the animals dissolves. Time vanishes. A part of you connects with a part of them. They know you are there. They know way more than you think. They tolerate your presence, and some of them are curious.
Curious young birds are often the opening into the boundary world. A family of Gray Catbirds has taken up residence in a large patch of Rough-leaved Dogwood near the cherry tree. The dogwood is alive with activity. It is covered in white berries on pink stems. I move in close, and the adult catbirds start scolding me, letting me know this is their territory. The first time this happened, the adults were scolding loudly and persistently. Other birds responded by flying in to see what all the commotion was about. This is a great way to catch glimpses of birds, but they are agitated, and they quickly leave once they figure out that it is just a cumbersome person the catbirds are all worked up about.
The young catbirds gather around their parents and look for the source of the alarm. When they see me standing still, they become curious. Most people do not stand still. They come in close. Sometimes within four feet. I lose myself in moments like this.
A female catbird and I engage in a beautiful dance. A spell has been cast, and I have crossed the divide and am now in her world. I can see pupils dilating in response to shifting shadows. I know every move she makes, and I can feel her alertness and aliveness. I can see her body expand and contract with each breath. She checks me out every few seconds. She seems to be asking, “Who are you, and what do you intend to do?”
I want to ask her questions, too. How old are you? What is your life like? Where did you come from? Where are you going? What are you thinking right now? What have you eaten today? What will you eat tomorrow? What do you think of people? Why do you sing so beautifully and with such gusto? Do you love me?
On rare occasions, in situations like this, a bird will start preening or even take a nap. That is the ultimate experience. When a bird naps near you, you are deep into their world. When this happens to me, I feel at peace, part of the life of this place, and deeply grateful for their trust. Their peace of mind and ease seeps into me through a “secret correspondence with my heart.” This is an experience few people will ever know.
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
Wendell Berry
Maybe the birds take comfort in our presence. It is possible that they have discerned that when we are around, the Cooper’s Hawks tend to stay away. That is a reassuring thought that hints at the possibility of us supporting the web of life amidst the challenges that we face.
It is best to just be with the bird in these moments and to fully absorb its presence. Do not get caught up in technical and verbal assessments; just be in the moment. If you do want to move to raise binoculars, a camera, or to change your position, do so slowly and preferably behind the cover of leaves, branches, or tree trunks. The bird will let you know if you are moving too much. An open eye, a shift in position, and a quiet vocalization are all signs that your movement has been noted. Eventually, they will move away from you. Sometimes they come back, but mostly they vanish.
If that is not enough of a reason to stand still, there is more to consider. During this same encounter, as I was watching the dogwood and cherry tree, I looked up as a robin dropped down out of the cherry tree and flew right over my head. I registered a sleek brown silhouette, and I could hear his approach as a thin zip that built up to a loud and intense sheeesh sound as he passed by. I could feel the energy of this bird wash over me. I ducked and felt a rush of adrenaline.
Close encounters like this are not part of the typical birdwatching experience. Most people walk by and look, and they will see a few birds. But this is like walking by and glancing at the cover of a book. You will miss the richness of the story if you do not take the time to stop and observe. As soon as you stop, the book opens, and a whole new world is revealed.
I consider these close encounters to be a form of self-care, small moments of spontaneous connection and healing. I always feel happier after connecting with birds in this way, and I carry that feeling with me throughout the day.
Love every leaf … Love the animals, love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things. Once you have perceived it, you will begin to comprehend it better every day, and you will come at last to love the world with an all-embracing love. Love the animals: God has given them the rudiments of thought and untroubled joy. So do not trouble it, do not harass them, do not deprive them of their joy, do not go against God’s intent. Man, do not exalt yourself above the animals: they are without sin, while you in your majesty defile the earth by your appearance on it, and you leave the traces of your defilement behind you — alas, this is true of almost every one of us!
My young brother asked even the birds to forgive him. It may sound absurd, but it is right none the less, for everything, like the ocean, flows and enters into contact with everything else: touch one place, and you set up a movement at the other end of the world. It may be senseless to beg forgiveness of the birds, but, then, it would be easier for the birds, and for the child, and for every animal if you were yourself more pleasant than you are now. Everything is like an ocean, I tell you. Then you would pray to the birds, too, consumed by a universal love, as though in ecstasy, and ask that they, too, should forgive your sin. Treasure this ecstasy, however absurd people may think it.
Fyodor Dostoyevski
I share your reverence, Bill. It's humbling to be allowed a to share a holy moment of co-existence with these shy, beautiful creatures. I feel not so much like I am seeing them, but rather that they are allowing themselves to be seen. Could it be that kind, human attention-- which is love-- soothes and even sometimes creates a sort of mutual admiration? I can't say, but it does feel this way to me. I never get tired of observing nature. It's the ultimate Gift from a loving Creator. Your words and photos are also a gift. Thank you!
Beautiful essay Bill. I love that Wendall Berry poem. I felt like I was looking into those bird’s eyes, and I needed that.