Bird Crazy

On the road out west, we tangent through the mountains outside Tucson to a lodge that bills itself as a sanctuary for bird watchers.

As such, the place's crawling with people, quietly scanning the horizon, binoculars out. 

It’s my first encounter with bird watchers and the first thing I learn is they may love birds more than they love people.

Which is understandable.

The second thing I learn is—don't call them bird watchers. Birders being the preferred nomenclature.

Finally, they're not much for conversation. Unless you're talking about birds. Then they can't stop talking.

Also, it’s hard to hear them. Cause they talk in hushed tones. So as not to frighten off the birds they’re watching.

Oh, and one more thing. They really zone in on watching the birds.

As I discover when my wife and I join one gathering that’s scanning the skies and I say…

”Hello, everybody.”

And no one responds. 

It’s like we’re invisible. Until my wife casually mentions she'd just seen several wild turkeys crossing the road not far from lodge.

And suddenly, they’re peppering her with questions about what she saw and where and when she saw it. 

Not to be outdone, I tell them I also saw the wild turkeys. And I took pictures.

I take out my camera and bask in the glow of their oohs and ahs as they admire the pictures I took.

After that I’m like the second coming of John Audubon himself.

As we silently stand, eyes toward the sky, a gaggle of turkey vultures fly in from lord knows where, settling in a tree not far away. And the birders, speaking in almost reverent tones, swap stories about other turkey vultures they'd seen.

Which means they’re talking about bird watching while watching birds. Sorta like the way my family talks  about dinner, while still eating lunch.

I was in, once I showed them this Wild Turkey…

I have to admit it--those birds in that tree silhouetted by the sky are an impressive sight. Reminding me of the birds lined up on the telephone wire in Hitchcock's move, The Birds.

And I say so. And everyone nods. And then, as I often do, I take it a step too far and...

I mention the Mad Magazine parody of The Birds, where among the birds are Heckle and Jeckle.

I always thought that was funny--inserting Heckle and Jeckle into The Birds. 

Alas. I feel the sting of the cold shoulder as no one says a word. I worry—did I violate some birders code of conduct by mentioning Heckle and Jeckle?

Minutes pass. Seems like an eternity. I'm thinking--how long can these guys silently stare at these birds? When...

From behind us comes the sounds of a car crunching through the lodge's gravel parking lot and skidding to a stop.

Out bursts a skinny man in cargo pants and flip flops who looks like a combination of Pee-wee Herman and Crocodile Dundee.

Up the hill he races, his car door still open, engine still running. Clearly, he's in a hurry to get to where he has to go—which is where we are standing.

"Heard about the turkey vultures," he says.

And I'm thinking--Heard? From who? Do birders have a secret messaging system eluding neophytes like me?

He says he's a teacher on vacation, driving through the area, determined to see every bird he’s never seen before he has to return to work. And he pulls out a camera with a lens that looks as long as a rocket.

"Wow," he says. "Spectacular."

As he snaps away, he runs down the birds he's seen in just this one day...

White-winged dove, Mexican Whip-poor-will, Red-tailed Hawk, Red-naped Sapsucker, a Dusky Flycatcher and an Acorn Woodpecker and a Hairy Woodpecker and some other kind of woodpecker whose full name I couldn't get.

One of the other birders asks--"have you seen a Bridled Titmouse?"

The vacationing teacher stops snapping. 

"There’s a Titmouse here?"

"Yeah, seen it over the ridge."

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

And he's off. Hopping into his car. Which he doesn’t even have to ignite, as it’s been running the whole time. And driving off in the general direction the birder had been pointing.

Departing as fast as he arrived. A birder in a hurry. So many birds to watch and so little time to watch them.