About Birding: Part I

Saturday morning I got up pretty early and drove to the Fernbank Science Center in Atlanta. This should not be confused with the Fernbank Museum, which has clear signs leading to it from all major streets. No, to get to the Fernbank Science Center, you need to take the ramp leading to the Carter Center, then PASS the Carter Center and drive to Moreland Avenue before reaching Heaton Drive.

Located nearby is the King Center (as we southerners pronounce it, KANG), the contested foundation in honor of Martin Luther King, Jr. And had I been in the shape to sit in a bar and have a beer afterwards, I would have gone to Manuel's Tavern, an Atlanta institution for 40+ years, if you're a Democrat. They have great nachos.

Anyway, enough of that. I went to the Fernbank for the birds. Only, I got there late, owing to the wrong turn. Shoot. Birders don't sit in the parking lot and drink coffee and gab for a few minutes, sharing equipment tips, trading industry secrets, bragging about birding expeditions.

When I arrived, the birders had already entered the forest. I was dismayed, walking around the entire perimeter of the center to see if I could spot them. But you know, I was born in the country. So when I noticed that the gate to the "backyard" of the complex had a padlock, but the padlock wasn't shut, I snuck through. And when I noticed that the padlock to the forest was in the same condition, I snuck through that too. Then I hoofed it down to a small clump of birders, and took my place in the group like I'd been there the entire time.

I had driven a long way, and I didn't want it to be a wasted effort.

As this was the first time birding in a group, I make the following observations.

1. Birders are skinny. Like runners. Like bikers. They are primarily waspish middle aged women who do not sweat. Darn birders. There wasn't wasn't a single "Person of Color" in the group. Now if you're a big girl like me, you're going to be welcomed, because that's the polite thing to do, but you're going to sweat in an old growth forest with a full tree canopy and no access to moving air. Given this situation, you're going to feel a little self conscious. Struggle to tame this urge.

I say this because if you jump in and talk to people anyway, they are going to be helpful, because they are still women, and women like to share secrets. If they were stunned by the amount of sweat I could produce, and why wouldn't they be when I am stunned by the amount of sweat I produce, they didn't mention it. And when I told one woman where I had been already, and how it seemed easier to spot birds alone than in a group where right that minute we were CLODDING ALONG IN THE FOREST TALKING ABOUT BLUEBERRY PIES, she agreed.

"You attend these walks because you have free access to a biologist who is experienced. You learn a lot more and gain experience faster when he is able to pave the way for you. But when you are able to spot birds on your own, it's better to be alone or with a partner who doesn't grow impatient being with you quietly for hours. This is a learning environment. But it's not the best way to find birds."

That made sense to me. In fact, the woman I spoke with was more of an outdoor camper, not quite as pale and skinny as the rest of them. She had come to birding because she enjoyed camping, and wondered about the birds who produced the songs she heard.

When I was alone, I found dozens of fascinating things and took lots of pictures. With the group, I couldn't stop when I wanted, so I only took a few. But I did learn (I think) the difference between the call of a titmouse and a warbler. I learned that bluejays can mimic the sound of a hawk. I learned that you shouldn't play sound recordings in a forest to draw birds, because you can actually kick them out of their territory if your recorded bird "wins." I learned that the crow population is in trouble from the west nile virus. And while listening to bird calls online, I learned that I can really draw my dog Mollie's attention when I play the sound recordings. She's mighty stinking cute when she's trying to figure out how a bird got into my laptop's keyboard.

I have other observations, but I'll save them for another time.

--Laura