Dispatches from the Field - Dispatch #1; November 11th, 2023
Hello, reader!
Thank you, as always, for reading One in the Hand. Or at least for being subscribed, as there hasn’t been anything new from me since my last essay about orcas in June. After a few months of filling the well I have a new essay coming very soon about turkeys which I’m excited to share.
In the meantime, I’ve been inspired by my friend Chris at
to give you a little appetizer before I hit you with my turkey essay. So here’s a dispatch from the field with an update on what I’ve been up to. Flock to you later :)Where have I been? Here are the headlines:
I took a break from birding over the summer
I leveled up my confidence as a birder… and as a man
I am now a bird educator and nature guide for the New York City Audubon Society
I am available to book for a private bird walk/tour/outing!
And here are the details:
For most of the summer I took a very intentional break from birding. Sometimes when dating gets to be too much I’ll take a “sabbatical,” and this past summer was my sabbatical from birding. New birders in NYC and birders from outside the city are blissfully unaware of how much drama goes down in the birding scene here and I have a tendency to get sucked in. I’m not even really involved in any of it, but I can’t look away (or log off). I also found myself getting competitive and self-piteous about my birding skills, feeling far below par and at odds with other birders–even with people I’d never spoken to before.
My winter and spring birding seasons this past year were pretty severely curtailed by depression–I was just not going out and seeing birds. And when I did have the energy to get out of my apartment, I didn’t stray too far and birded at my local patches. Which of course was nourishing and always so lovely, but not very exciting. Certainly I wasn’t seeing anything new. By the time summer rolled around I was feeling pretty bitter.
Summer is my least favorite time to go birding. The birds you see in summer are the “usual suspects” plus the summer breeders. It’s nice to spend time with summering species like Eastern kingbirds and yellow warblers, but after June the birds are pretty focused on raising their chicks and molting. It seems to me they appreciate privacy during these times anyways. I also can’t deal with the weather. The heat and humidity are killer, and depending on where you go, the bugs and tourists can be too.
It was nice to spend a few months leaving my binoculars at home. Letting go of pressure to see “good” birds and getting some space from the NYC birding scene was rejuvenating. And I didn’t completely stop birding. I got to see a few birds with my sister and youngest brother at a wedding we went to in the Poconos. We saw a scarlet tanager in the woods at a disc golf course. I remember Timmy saying “that’s the most beautiful bird I’ve ever seen.”
My sabbatical came to a screeching halt as shorebird season picked up in the middle of August. By this point in the year I had fully adjusted to the new dose of mood stabilizer I was prescribed, and for the most part my mood has finally, well, stabilized! I was going way out to Jamaica Bay, a few times with my buddy Luke, but also flying solo. I (somewhat impulsively) bought a scope and was really digging in to shorebird ID for the first time in a while. I also had the chance to bone up on shorebirds and gulls at Asbury Park in New Jersey, where I spent a few days with friends, forcing them to acknowledge the difference between semipalmated and least sandpipers.
I’ve had a pretty decent fall migration since, though my activities have been a bit more varied. Basketball games, a wedding, birthdays, dates. Depression is something that has clouded years of my life (like, half of it) and it’s been interesting and fun to adjust to the color and light and speed of it all.
Part of the quickening pace of my life has allowed me some extra time and energy to focus on sharing my passion for birds with other people. I already do this in my daily life with my family, friends, and colleagues, but now I ALSO do this in a professional capacity for NYC Audubon. I led my first two bird outings with them this fall, one for a group of 40 people and another for a group of three. I’m hoping that in the spring season I get to lead a group somewhere in the middle.
It has been a fantastic experience so far. Between the shorebird IDs and the Audubon outings, I am finally (FINALLY) beginning to realize my skills and knowledge as a birder may actually venture into the “expert” sphere–at least when it comes to the birds of the Northeast.
So much of my birding ethos comes from a place of constant learning. I have long made peace with the fact that I’ll never know, let alone see, all 10,000+ species of birds in the world. How could I ever deign to call myself an expert? I’ve never seen a snowy owl and I don’t own a camera with a long lens. I’ve never been on a pelagic birding trip and I’m only kinda new to tracking finch irruptions. But… I have been studying the birds my entire life. Reading about them, observing and interpreting their behavior, and drawing them–which, as an aside, has been the most useful tool for me to learn the birds.
As a bonus to my new gig with NYC Audubon, I have a little star on their bird guide and educator page which denotes that I am also available for booking for private bird outings. Nothing has worked out so far, but people have reached out to me about setting something up. And, more recently, to consult as a subject matter expert. This feels surreal to me, but it’s making me realize that I do know what I’m talking about. AND that there’s value in my knowledge. So much so that people are approaching me to get my takes about birds. This lifelong passion, which kids bullied me for in grade school, is earning me money and a reputation. It’s a lot to wrap my head around.
When I was little I remember my great grandmother telling me about a person she knew who was a bird expert. I remember, very clearly, her saying that this person could tell a bird even when it was just a “speck in the sky.” I don’t recall who this person was that she was describing, but I remember being so impressed hearing about their skills and deciding in that moment that I wanted to be that good at birding. To be able to ID any bird, even when it was just a speck in the sky. I’m really proud to say that 95% of the time, at least in this part of the world, I can do just that.
My newfound confidence as a birder and bird expert has grown beyond my skills with binoculars. I wouldn’t consider myself an expert in any other field–I barely consider myself an expert in this one–but I am starting to realize, actually I do know what I’m doing most of the time and I have a pretty firm grip on who I am. There’s nothing I need to apologize for or change about myself to appeal to the voice that tells me I’m not good enough/hot enough/not seeing enough cool birds. I am whole and I’m good at what I do. I see plenty of cool birds. And I look good while doing it.