“I consider myself to have been the bridge between the shotgun and the binoculars in bird watching. Before I came along, the primary way to observe birds was to shoot them and stuff them.” — Roger Tory Peterson
Travels With Maggie
Nothing could be finer than an early morning outing with fellow birders of the Wasatch Chapter of Audubon. Ever since I seriously began birding, which was back in 1999, the chapter has had a Wednesday morning bird walk. When I first hooked up with the group, I had to play hooky from work to join them.
A California quail hides among the weeds. I spotted him on an outing to Willard Bay in Northern Utah while birding this past May with old friends. -- Photo by Pat Bean
Shortly thereafter I was inspired to write a weekly bird column. So instead of playing hooky while I was roaming all over Utah’s Wasatch Front on these Wednesdays, I could honestly report that I was doing research.
Since I knew next to nothing about birds, the research included a lot of that, plus the generous help of the chapter’s birding experts, Jack Rensel and Keith Evans. Both these guys had been at this sport since they were young boys – and both had tales to tell of being suspected of unsavory deeds because of wandering around alone with binoculars in hands. They grew up at a time when birding wasn’t a well known hobby, and certainly not one boys took up.
Thankfully, Roger Tory Peterson, who put together the first field guide that made birding possible for us non-ornithologists, watched birds as a boy even before Jack and Keith’s time.
My oldest son makes fun of my birdwatching, considering it a little old lady’s sport. Well, it can be that. But it can also involve long hikes in the dark so as to arrive in time to watch male sage grouse play drums with their chest sacs to attract the ladies, or a hike over treacherous lava to watch Flamingos at a small lake in the Galapagos.
Birding gives my travels that extra bit of oomph. For example, the boat ride to Matagorda Island off the coast of Texas was pleasant enough in itself, but getting to see whooping cranes as well was like the salt around the glass of a good margarita. And the climb up a ridge to see a black-capped vireo at Lost Maples State Park gave me a good dose of needed exercise.
Looking for birds in the landscape has also enriched my travels in yet other ways. One who is looking for a tiny bird in the bush is not likely to miss the moose in the stream. And when I’m visiting Northern Utah, my passion for birds gives me a legitimate reason to once again hook up with my old Wednesday morning birding buddies.
And, as I said, nothing could be finer than time spent with them.
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