Budding birder seeks camaraderie
(Originally published May 2024)
As husbands go, Mark does all right. But lately I’m finding he’s letting me down in one important way: He shows less enthusiasm for wild birds than I feel is appropriate for a man of his age.
Of all the clichés that come with getting older—the spotty word recall, the gray hair, the dismay at low lighting in restaurants (and the associated need to say things like “You think they’d at least use a larger font for the menu”)—none has hit me more squarely than the joke that once you turn 50, you get into birdwatching.
It’s funny because it’s true.
“I spend the bulk of my free time listening for, watching, and talking about birds.”
Two years ago, I discovered the Merlin app, which records and identifies bird songs. That tool turned my casual interest in birds into a near obsession. Overnight I went from saying, “What a pretty call; I wonder what kind of bird that is,” to “Everyone, shut up, shut up—Merlin can’t hear!”
Obviously, the “birding is for old people” trope is a generalization. There must be at least a few young people out there who would rather watch birds than play beer pong or stay out all night or join the Peace Corps or whatever it is people their age do for fun.
Conversely, there are people of my own generation who don’t care about birds at all. I’m just disappointed that Mark is among them.
He doesn’t dislike birds. Last week, we even shared a cool moment: We watched as an Eastern kingbird splashed down on the surface of our pond and emerged with an insect in its beak, which it consumed after returning to a high branch over the water. It repeated the maneuver three times, then sat and preened its feathers dry as I made solar-eclipse-worthy murmurs of appreciation.
The yellow-rumped warbler (not to be confused with the fungible-token warbler)
Mark found it interesting. But to my knowledge, he—unlike me—has not recounted it in animated detail to a single friend or random checkout clerk. That’s a disturbing indication that his general attitude toward birds is closer to “blasé” than “enthralled.”
As further evidence, yesterday I came home from my walk on the TAM and said, “Guess what.” Instead of guessing what, he sighed, waiting with unbated breath for my announcement.
“Today,” I said, “I was able to tell the difference between a hermit thrush song and a wood thrush song!”
I’d like to think his reaction was authentic. But, knowing him as well as I do, I sensed a hint of sarcasm underlying his standing ovation and slow clap.
I annoy him even more at this time of year because there are currently tons of migratory birds passing through Vermont, and the Merlin app is going crazy with new-to-me species. I spend the bulk of my free time listening for, watching, and talking about birds.
Right now, all kinds of warblers are in town. I’ve only caught sight of one or two of them, but Merlin has documented countless warbler species by their songs. If the app is to be believed, they should be practically falling out of the trees right now.
Every time I turn the app on, a different warbler shows up. Off the top of my head, I recall names including the black-throated blue warbler, the yellow-rumped warbler, the golden-parachute warbler, the uptown-funk warbler and the fungible-token warbler. (OK, I’m not sure “yellow-rumped warbler” is a real name, but you get the idea.)
As much it saddens me that Mark doesn’t share my growing passion for birds, I am lucky to have a good friend who does. Technically, she is a bit ahead of me in the birding department, in that she bought binoculars this year.
The other day, just before a planned walk with her, I had an idea that filled me with bird-related giddiness. I texted her, “Bring your binocs. We’re making a warbler list!”
I really said that.
They are words a younger version of me couldn’t have imagined I’d ever use, especially with such earnestness. And Mark no doubt would have rolled his eyes if I had made the suggestion to him. But my friend responded in two seconds: “Yes!”
She gets it.
I haven’t told her yet about my newfound ability to distinguish between thrush songs. But you can bet when I do, her standing ovation is going to come from the heart.
