Along with back-to-school frenzy, and other September madness, it’s also Birthday Month here at Birds and Words Headquarters, and I have no shame in admitting that we love to celebrate milestones large and small with gusto. I’m partially resorting to the royal “we” here, but I’ve done a decent job training Mr. Birds and Words, and now he too exhibits signs of celebratory cheer in September, even in the midst of his horrible ragweed allergies.
In any event, I’ve purchased a Folding Bicycle! Yes, it’s a new chapter. I’ve long wanted a bike, and seeing Lynne Freeman (OFO President, no less) riding her folding bicycle on a regular basis made me start drooling over portable bikes. You see, I live in semi-suburbia, and biking anywhere is near impossible because of a highly useful monstrosity called the 401 highway. The highway itself isn’t to blame, but the urban infrastructure surrounding the highway isn’t exactly bicycle friendly. But let’s be brutally honest: even if it were super friendly, I’m not exactly a pro at hills and would probably die on the climb between York Mills and Melrose, so bicycle commuting wasn’t exactly ever in the cards.
But the thought of having a little bike that I could pop in the trunk of my car and ride around near the lake has always enticed me. I’m excited about this new chapter in my life, and excited to become a biking birder! I’ll keep you posted re: progress.
In the spirit of new chapters, I continue to extract birds at the banding station. Had to radio for help twice this morning, but I managed a handful this morning, including a Wilson’s warbler, a Chestnut-sided, and the drabbest looking Blackburnian you’ve ever laid eyes on. But I had no problem IDing it, and that made it one of the loveliest blackburnians I’ve ever seen. Beauty really is in the eye of the beholder.
Of course, there are daily, hourly setbacks: I mistook the light streaking on a Myrtle warbler for a Blackpoll, and later mistook a Cape May for a Western Palm and a Myrtle. Not a great day for Cape Mays, but granted this one was a young female, and so un-Cape May-looking that it’s no wonder I couldn’t place her. I’m heartened by these mistakes though — more and more I know what to look for, and understand why I’m making certain errors.
I think birding might be the single best antidote to smugness. The minute you think you KNOW something for certain, you’ll realize that you really don’t know much of anything at all. And I think of Leo Tolstoy and his refrain about how we can’t know history for certain, and the second we think we do, something happens to thwart our expectations. Come to think of it, I would have loved to take Tolstoy out birding (even though he probably would have much preferred going on a hunt, and knowing him, he would have hunted in the most environmentally-conscious way possible; too bad he didn’t think too highly of higher education for women, but that’s another story).
Anyhow, if you see someone on a folding bike while trying to maneuver her binoculars, it’s probably me. If you see that same person lying next to or atop of her bike, tangled in her binoculars, nose deep in a field guide, it’s likely me as well. Whichever state you find me in, if you see me please say hello! We can talk birds and words and I promise I’ll be happy to see you.