Inspired by the latest talk of the TOC, I have decided it is time, after 110 days, to try to restore Cerulean Sky to its former glory (remember those good ol' days when you would set your alarm early so you could eagerly run to your computer to see if Cerulean Sky had any updates before heading off to the grind? Those late nights spent ignoring mouse-clicking ergonomics and pressing the refresh button every half second, inducing carpal tunnel while staring with bloodshot eyes and sipping a double double with trembling hands, desperate to see if Sky's author would perhaps post another biting commentary on the cormorant cull, or describe, in Pulitzer prize-worthy prose, his amazing adventures across acres of forests, wetlands, beach, and brush in search of waders, game, raptors, LBJ's, and everything in between?). You don't remember?
The inspiring talk was by Hamilton birder Brandon Holden, the smarter, more talented and charismatic, better-looking, younger version of myself (jealous? I'm not jealous!). I have enough difficulty stumbling to the front of the room to utter, in monotonous monotone, a mere guest list (usually in front of an audience who cannot contain at least a grin, chortle, or chuckle at my expense), let alone speak, seemingly with no nerves, for an hour about an incredible road trip across Florida with the aplomb of a seasoned expert while displaying brilliant photos from the journey.
All of this led me to look back on my now-14 years of birding to pinpoint where exactly things took a turn...not that things took a serious nosedive, there was just some point along the way where my learning curve reached a peak, leveled, and perhaps dropped an itsy bitsy teeny weeny bit (not a stock market crash thankfully. I won't need any bailout). Time is a factor, duh. I can't just go out birding whenever I want anymore and I certainly don't pore over my field guides like I used to (I do miss those days). But I did come to a realization that one of my greatest problems, probably since the beginning, is a (perhaps unfounded?) terror of a tarnished reputation; the scalding criticism of a hard-nosed veteran, having my name be synonymous with "novice" or "you can't trust his Ontbirds posts", an incorrect identification that ends up in the history books ("He mistook a Glaucous-winged X Herring Gull for a Thayer's Gull? Well I never...I'm not going to say hello the next time I see him." A non-birder might laugh, but it can be a tough world out there. Or at least in my mind it can be. Do I have issues?
With my current role as a no-talent hack, I struggle to sustain at least a minor role in the birding community. A couple of reports here, a few volunteer opportunities there, but there are those few rare (frequent) moments where I nearly despair at the knowledge of those around me. Even the mere mention of an obscure topographic detail that I have not heard of can send me into a tailspin of nerves (should I know this?...oh, I better not ask what they mean or I'll look like an idiot...I'll just nod and smile awkwardly, that should do the trick).
Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm mostly teasing and I'm not a terrible birder. I consider my skills to surpass the average chimp. I know a good number of calls (but could certainly stand to dust off my bird song C.D.'s to be less rusty), I can confidently identify almost everything I see (sometimes it requires a bit of time to do a mental scan through my memory-bank of field marks but eventually I come to a knowledgeable guess), and I take pride in the fact that I know a lot about migration times, ranges, and general abundance/rarity of species. Of course, there are groups that cause more trouble than others. There are gulls that I couldn't identify if my life depended on it, a few sparrows throw me into a momentary confused, blank stare, and fall shorebirds can lead me to *gasp*, open a field guide. But hey, we're supposed to be having fun, right?
I worry too much. I worry that I worry too much. I worry that I worry that I worry too much. However, I think I'm beginning to understand it all now. Worrying is my comfort-zone, my safety blanket. Worrying a lot keeps me from actually calling out a bird's name. Worrying too much prevents me from admitting I just don't know what I'm looking at. Worrying even prevents me from going birding! It's not a good way to learn, worrying. Life gets in the way of birding all the time but I think one of the most helpful things for me to do is also the simplest. It's time to practice the parsimony principle. How do you become a better birdwatcher? You birdwatch! Side note: spell check apparently accepts 'birdwatcher' but 'birdwatch' is not a word? I have done fairly well this year dedicating a chunk of my time to birding (mostly thanks to some wonderful friends who invite me along on their trips), but one bit of basic birding that I'm missing right now is getting out there for a few hours on my own. From my experience, I learn the most when I'm by myself. If you don't know what you're looking at, there's no embarrassment, you just figure it out. You hear a call you don't know? You search out the bird, identify it by sight and by golly, you'll likely know that call the next time! Practice and parsimony. Less worrying.
In conclusion, I just reread this entire post, which may come across as the ramblings of a lunatic, and I question the intent of the arrow that is hovering over "PUBLISH POST". So it has come to this: the first post in 110 days and it's an offbeat admission of my birding insecurities. I'm sorry, my dear fans and followers. I promise more normalcy in my next post 111 days from now. Happy birding!
