Hawthorn Hill Journal by Richard deRosa

Staying Put Can Be a Marvelous Journey

I have been fortunate enough to have satisfied my birding appetite in some exotic places: Tanzania, Ecuador, the Galapagos, the Amazon, Colombia, Costa Rica and many places in the U.S. Over time, perhaps it is age-related, my zeal for galivanting here and there has waned considerably. Of course, pocketbook constraints come into play as well. But most apparent to me has been a shift in focus, a need for a more holistic relationship with nature. Just birding is not enough. There are too many plants and animals and other natural phenomena to discover, or rediscover, to just hone in on one aspect of it all.

I am more of a walker these days, a hiker when weather permits. If birds cross my path, so be it. If not, the act of walking itself is an extraordinary spiritual balm, as is the lovely thoughtless state of mind that it induces. If on a day’s saunter I neither see nor hear any birds, it is of no matter. There are so many other things to see and sensations to experience. Also, as one of my favorite writers, Scott Russell Sanders, put it some time ago, there is much to gain from staying put.

I remember many years ago when we lived in Cherry Valley I headed out in search of my first pileated woodpecker. I think I was out for several hours before heading home somewhat dismayed. I heard no drumming. I neither saw nor heard evidence of their being at any time. Dismayed, I headed home, poured a cup of coffee, went out onto the porch, sat down, and within what seemed like seconds, one flew right in front of me, alighting on the trunk of a tall tree just to the left of the house. So much for looking too hard for something. Perhaps he had been following me all the while. I would like to think so. I have seen many since then, but the first of anything is always the most memorable.

I have participated in the Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s winter Feeder Watch program for quite a few years. Every year is different. Every year has its surprises as well as its disappointments. By disappointments, I mean having an expectation that certain species could not resist free meals—such a deal. I have not hosted any pine siskins or red polls in quite a long time. Well, maybe this year. But the array of visitors this year has been extraordinary. Several former winter visitors, having been absent for a number of years, have opted for a no-frills meal plan that never changes: black oil sunflower seed. I know that some people offer up a more generous buffet. I am too cheap and of the opinion that if their tastes are fancier than the fare I am willing to provide, options abound elsewhere.

I have had as much fun watching the various shenanigans that these different species engage in as I have exotics in other parts of the world. These are my neighbors, so it is nice getting to know one another. They don’t pay for their meals, but I profit from their presence in so many wonderful ways. A pair of tufted titmice, year-round residents that we hear during the summer but rarely see, hangs out here every day now. They have been rare visitors to our winter feeders. Why this year? Who knows—or cares. Red-bellied woodpeckers are also year-round inhabitants but, until this year, they have opted not to avail themselves of our hospitality. They especially like suet and persuade their distant kin, downy and hairy woodpeckers, to vacate the suet holder without fanfare. A territorial dispute whose solution we might well emulate.

A few mornings ago, I was surprised to see six ravens munching on seed droppings. I included that siting in my report to Cornell. After writing six in the tally box, a note jumped up asking if I were sure. I indicated in the space provided that not only was I sure, but that ravens hang out here year-round. The draw: fresh compost almost every morning. I resisted the urge to inform whoever might read my comments that I have been birding for close to 50 years and I know a raven when I see one. It was hard. I have a curmudgeonly distaste for what I consider to be proprietary attitudes.

There are many other daily visitors to the feeder. Too many to enumerate here. And I need only stand by the window and watch and marvel at the spectacle. No need for tickets, baggage, visas and the like. I envy their freedom. They have burdens just like any species on this earth, but their perks make up for that.

Staying put can be a marvelous journey. My antidote to these troubling times is to stay put, live and contribute locally, honor friends, family, and community, and hope for a radiant effect, however small. The worst response would be to lose hope, and that would serve none of us well.

Dick deRosa’s Hawthorn Hill essays have appeared in “The Freeman’s Journal” since 1998. A collection, “Hawthorn Hill Journal: Selected Essays,” was published in 2012. He is a retired English teacher.