Bird-Watching Is Better When You Unplug
May 15, 20255 min readThe Wonders of Bird-Watching without TechTechnology has made it easier than ever to quickly find, identify and record birds. But to truly appreciate feathered friends, consider unpluggingBy Derek Lovitch edited by Kate WongA Boreal Owl emerges from its roost to begin its evening of hunting activities in Northern Minnesota. The Boreal Owl is a tiny but fierce gnome of the deep boreal forest—the belt of cold, wet, largely coniferous forest that encircles the North Pole. Highly sought after by birders, this owl appeals less for its plumage than for its secrecy and its rarity in most places where people tend to live. This past winter, a huge movement of this species to regions south of its usual range occurred because of food scarcity—an event called an irruption. This put Boreal Owls within striking distance of birders—including me—who were looking to add the species to their “life list,” a record of all the species a person has seen. So in March, before the visiting owls returned home, some friends and I made a last-minute weekend trip to Duluth, Minn., to look for them. Although there’s always a frenetic energy to a rarity chase such as this, to me, the experience underscored the importance of taking time to pause and observe the birds we find.Deep birding. Slow birding. Holistic birding. There are a lot of things we can call it, but I prefer, simply, “bird-watching.” I’ve spent most of my career as a biologist introducing people to birding and getting them to engage in the natural world, from the backyard and beyond. The recent surge of interest in birding, which began during the peak of the COVID pandemic, has been wonderful to see. But the vast majority of recent birders, particularly those who began birding in the past five years, have found birding to be intimately tied to technology, especially cell phones.We have phone apps that can keep lists of birds we’ve seen, apps to help identify birds, apps that allow us to contribute data to scientific projects and messaging apps to alert others to rare bird sightings. We can also use our phones to document our birding discoveries with photographs, videos and audio recordings.On supporting science journalismIf you're enjoying this article, consider supporting our award-winning journalism by subscribing. By purchasing a subscription you are helping to ensure the future of impactful stories about the discoveries and ideas shaping our world today.But I wonder whether, by relying on technology to this extent, we are losing out on the most important tool for birding—and perhaps life in general: the power of observation.Slow DownAt just 10 inches from head to tail, a Boreal Owl hidden in a dense conifer stand is the proverbial needle in a haystack. But on cold, sunny mornings, the owls come out to sun themselves at forest edges, using the meager winter rays rather than hard-earned calories to warm up. One famous “edge” is the length of the North Shore Scenic Drive heading north from Duluth. On our first morning of the trip, as we ventured onto this road, a text alerted us to a nearby Boreal Owl. After the longest 12-minute drive of my life, we saw the growing group of gawkers. We jumped out of the car, and there was our quarry, sitting in a sun-soaked spruce tree! We basked in the glory of a little predator that is so hard to find that people fly halfway across the country to spend a weekend shivering in hopes of seeing it. Mission accomplished!Birders were coming and going, some seeing the owl only for a moment before they hopped back into their car and raced off for the next tick mark in the never-ending collecting game of modern birding. My friends were getting cold, and they were antsy to find a Great Gray Owl that had been seen a few miles away. I couldn’t blame them—Great Grays are active during the day, so they can be seen flying, hunting or otherwise doing something. This Boreal was just sitting there. But I couldn’t leave. I handed my friends the car keys and said, “Give me a little longer.”When I was growing up as a young birder, I had a field guide, an inexpensive pair of binoculars, and a pen and notebook. I loved my time in the woods, with only the birds for company, eagerly learning the nuances of identification and watching their behavior. Without the instant gratification of an ID or listing app, I had to pay close attention to the details of birds. I learned from my many mistakes. Mentors shared their ethical practices with me, and I relished the personal connections I made in the birding community.Yet these days, I describe myself not as a birder but rather a bird-watcher. Sure, I make use of the latest tools. For example, my birding plans during migration are informed by the complex algorithms that underpin modern weather forecasting and advanced radar technology that allows me to gauge the movement of birds overnight. But once I am out in the field, all I want to do is disconnect, to absorb, to engage. I typically enter the trails with nothing more than a weatherproof notebook and my trusty binoculars. If I take a camera, it’s handy in case I need to document a rarity or capture a special moment, but it’s a distant second in my priorities.Instead I take copious notes. When traveling, I write down descriptions of unfamiliar birds, even new species pointed out to me by a local guide. Like many people, I retain information better from the simple act of writing it down. And my field notebook holds more memories than any checklist can accommodate.What fascinates me the most about birds is their behavior, which isn’t easy to understand when looking through a viewfinder or reviewing photographs at home. So when observing a bird, I also jot down what it is doing. What is it looking at? How is it interacting with its mate? How does it look when it flies?Go DeepWhen my friends left me with the Boreal Owl, I settled in to give it my fullest attention. The bird acknowledged my presence for nearly a second as it opened one eye before turning its head and nestling its face into its fluffy back. When a Black-capped Chickadee called nearby, the owl awoke and made sure it wasn’t going to be harassed by the fearless chickadee before it went back to sleep. Later a pair of Red-breasted Nuthatches decided they weren’t too happy about the predator’s presence but only gave a half-hearted attempt to drive it away. This owl was apparently boring to them.It wasn’t to me. I was transfixed on my life bird. What would it do next? How old was it—could I tell based on the wear and molt patterns of its feathers? Would it be as tolerant of the nuthatches the next time? I was in deep.Only when my friends returned did I realize I had been staring at this barely moving bird for a full two hours. No wonder I could no longer feel my feet or hands. But I had seen—truly seen—a Boreal Owl. I could finally leave now.Birding is a chance to turn off our devices and use our senses, to breathe fresh air, to connect with the natural world and immerse ourselves in the now, the moment, the bird. The next time you see a bird, whether it’s a rare Boreal Owl or a common American Robin, maybe step back, stay a while and put the watching back in bird-watching.
#birdwatching #better #when #you #unplug
Bird-Watching Is Better When You Unplug
May 15, 20255 min readThe Wonders of Bird-Watching without TechTechnology has made it easier than ever to quickly find, identify and record birds. But to truly appreciate feathered friends, consider unpluggingBy Derek Lovitch edited by Kate WongA Boreal Owl emerges from its roost to begin its evening of hunting activities in Northern Minnesota. The Boreal Owl is a tiny but fierce gnome of the deep boreal forest—the belt of cold, wet, largely coniferous forest that encircles the North Pole. Highly sought after by birders, this owl appeals less for its plumage than for its secrecy and its rarity in most places where people tend to live. This past winter, a huge movement of this species to regions south of its usual range occurred because of food scarcity—an event called an irruption. This put Boreal Owls within striking distance of birders—including me—who were looking to add the species to their “life list,” a record of all the species a person has seen. So in March, before the visiting owls returned home, some friends and I made a last-minute weekend trip to Duluth, Minn., to look for them. Although there’s always a frenetic energy to a rarity chase such as this, to me, the experience underscored the importance of taking time to pause and observe the birds we find.Deep birding. Slow birding. Holistic birding. There are a lot of things we can call it, but I prefer, simply, “bird-watching.” I’ve spent most of my career as a biologist introducing people to birding and getting them to engage in the natural world, from the backyard and beyond. The recent surge of interest in birding, which began during the peak of the COVID pandemic, has been wonderful to see. But the vast majority of recent birders, particularly those who began birding in the past five years, have found birding to be intimately tied to technology, especially cell phones.We have phone apps that can keep lists of birds we’ve seen, apps to help identify birds, apps that allow us to contribute data to scientific projects and messaging apps to alert others to rare bird sightings. We can also use our phones to document our birding discoveries with photographs, videos and audio recordings.On supporting science journalismIf you're enjoying this article, consider supporting our award-winning journalism by subscribing. By purchasing a subscription you are helping to ensure the future of impactful stories about the discoveries and ideas shaping our world today.But I wonder whether, by relying on technology to this extent, we are losing out on the most important tool for birding—and perhaps life in general: the power of observation.Slow DownAt just 10 inches from head to tail, a Boreal Owl hidden in a dense conifer stand is the proverbial needle in a haystack. But on cold, sunny mornings, the owls come out to sun themselves at forest edges, using the meager winter rays rather than hard-earned calories to warm up. One famous “edge” is the length of the North Shore Scenic Drive heading north from Duluth. On our first morning of the trip, as we ventured onto this road, a text alerted us to a nearby Boreal Owl. After the longest 12-minute drive of my life, we saw the growing group of gawkers. We jumped out of the car, and there was our quarry, sitting in a sun-soaked spruce tree! We basked in the glory of a little predator that is so hard to find that people fly halfway across the country to spend a weekend shivering in hopes of seeing it. Mission accomplished!Birders were coming and going, some seeing the owl only for a moment before they hopped back into their car and raced off for the next tick mark in the never-ending collecting game of modern birding. My friends were getting cold, and they were antsy to find a Great Gray Owl that had been seen a few miles away. I couldn’t blame them—Great Grays are active during the day, so they can be seen flying, hunting or otherwise doing something. This Boreal was just sitting there. But I couldn’t leave. I handed my friends the car keys and said, “Give me a little longer.”When I was growing up as a young birder, I had a field guide, an inexpensive pair of binoculars, and a pen and notebook. I loved my time in the woods, with only the birds for company, eagerly learning the nuances of identification and watching their behavior. Without the instant gratification of an ID or listing app, I had to pay close attention to the details of birds. I learned from my many mistakes. Mentors shared their ethical practices with me, and I relished the personal connections I made in the birding community.Yet these days, I describe myself not as a birder but rather a bird-watcher. Sure, I make use of the latest tools. For example, my birding plans during migration are informed by the complex algorithms that underpin modern weather forecasting and advanced radar technology that allows me to gauge the movement of birds overnight. But once I am out in the field, all I want to do is disconnect, to absorb, to engage. I typically enter the trails with nothing more than a weatherproof notebook and my trusty binoculars. If I take a camera, it’s handy in case I need to document a rarity or capture a special moment, but it’s a distant second in my priorities.Instead I take copious notes. When traveling, I write down descriptions of unfamiliar birds, even new species pointed out to me by a local guide. Like many people, I retain information better from the simple act of writing it down. And my field notebook holds more memories than any checklist can accommodate.What fascinates me the most about birds is their behavior, which isn’t easy to understand when looking through a viewfinder or reviewing photographs at home. So when observing a bird, I also jot down what it is doing. What is it looking at? How is it interacting with its mate? How does it look when it flies?Go DeepWhen my friends left me with the Boreal Owl, I settled in to give it my fullest attention. The bird acknowledged my presence for nearly a second as it opened one eye before turning its head and nestling its face into its fluffy back. When a Black-capped Chickadee called nearby, the owl awoke and made sure it wasn’t going to be harassed by the fearless chickadee before it went back to sleep. Later a pair of Red-breasted Nuthatches decided they weren’t too happy about the predator’s presence but only gave a half-hearted attempt to drive it away. This owl was apparently boring to them.It wasn’t to me. I was transfixed on my life bird. What would it do next? How old was it—could I tell based on the wear and molt patterns of its feathers? Would it be as tolerant of the nuthatches the next time? I was in deep.Only when my friends returned did I realize I had been staring at this barely moving bird for a full two hours. No wonder I could no longer feel my feet or hands. But I had seen—truly seen—a Boreal Owl. I could finally leave now.Birding is a chance to turn off our devices and use our senses, to breathe fresh air, to connect with the natural world and immerse ourselves in the now, the moment, the bird. The next time you see a bird, whether it’s a rare Boreal Owl or a common American Robin, maybe step back, stay a while and put the watching back in bird-watching.
#birdwatching #better #when #you #unplug
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