Birdwatching despite not knowing anything about birds

“I slip into the group of 100-odd Brooklyn twenty-and-thirty-somethings craning their necks toward the sky, toward leaves beginning to golden. The leader, Michael, is talking about attention, tuning our ears, patting the trees with our eyes, open, aware, gentle. We don’t need to try too hard, he says.

Soon somebody sees a flutter, a yellow warbler, maybe, high up in a tree. I try to be attentive but do not notice any movement, cannot see what several people are now seeing, binoculars to the face, murmuring in agreement.

Did you find it? a woman beside me asks.

Not yet, I say.

Me neither, she says.

Someone else explains: first locate that thick branch, then look at the branch behind that one, then follow its bend.

As I try again, someone says, ahh, there it goes. And it is gone.

That’s okay, Michael says, forget that one, it wasn’t meant for you.

While we meander to another part of the park, Michael preaches about tech and what it’s taking away from us, how we must resist, how birding is resistance. We are using our senses, we are human animals, we are paying attention. For a moment, I’m tempted to record his impromptu lecture, because I think his words are very wise, but I see the irony, so I do not. Instead, I make a self-promise to come back more often, to absorb his lessons through repeated listening rather than capturing.

I successfully spot three birds before it’s time to wrap up.”

— excerpt from “I’m trying to pay closer attention” on Getting Closer substack, click the link to read