For years, I had been starting my morning routine with technology, news, social media and the indispensable cup of coffee. While many Americans start their day with this ritual, I found that beginning my morning in this manner created stress, dulled my senses and interfered with my ability to make sense of complex life events.
I began taking an early morning walk down our road to a small wetland to watch birds in May. The wetland is about a half-mile from our house along a dirt road we know as “Rabbit Alley” because of the snowshoe hares that congregate there during the spring and summer to munch on grass and flowers. In the winter months, their brown coats turn a brilliant white — a camouflage against the background of snow, ice and a moody gray sky.
When spring migration hit its peak, the air was filled with the dawn chorus of different songbirds. Thick willows obscured the birds at times, but their sounds filled the air. Warbling vireos called out, “If I see you then I’ll seize you and I’ll squeeze you till you squirt” — a birdsong mnemonic that seems to threaten all wandering insects and arachnids! Secretive McGillivray’s warblers, with their beautiful white eye ring and grey heads, flitted through the underbrush.
I noticed that after just several weeks of coffee and a walk in nature, my observations became keener and my thoughts clearer. Fuchsia-colored wild roses sprouted from beneath the aspen groves that lined our dirt road. Purple clumps of lupine pushed up through the damp earth. The morning sun’s rays lit up Ponderosa pine bark with a rosy hue. Ravens, flying between the nearby reservoir and mountains in search of breakfast, croaked a greeting.
There was something about the possibility of each new morning that motivated me to learn to identify our forest birds by just their songs and calls. It was not an easy task as I am the least musical person I know. I cannot play an instrument, identify a note, keep a beat or sing a harmony to save my life. Much to my embarrassment, I am still listening to the bands I grew up with in the ’70s and ’80s.
However, I persevered and learned the nuances between the similar songs of the ubiquitous American robin, red and yellow western tanager and stunning black-headed grosbeak. Does that song resemble an overly happy, operatic robin? Then it must be the black-headed grosbeak. Similar to a robin who has had too many beers? Probably the western tanager!
During June, I heard the fluted call of Swainson’s thrush and watched how the young birds chased each other through the trees as if in a game of hide and seek. At a bend in our road, I was surprised to see a ruffed grouse perched on an aspen limb devouring aspen leaves with all the gusto of a Friday night football fan eating nachos. Approaching a large wood pile, a family of yellow-bellied marmots dove into its interior for safety and then poked their heads out one by one, scolding me for trespassing.
One weekend in July, I watched a red-naped sapsucker hammering holes in a tall, dead tree and then flying into a thick copse of Douglas fir. Gazing up at the heart-shaped aspen leaves I observed two nesting warbling vireos attacking a boisterous and persistent blue and black Steller’s jay that was trying to raid their nest. They pursued him relentlessly until he retreated into the conifers.
Throughout my life, nature has been a refuge in times of stress and uncertainty. One need not be near a forest or a national park to connect with nature. If you live in a city or suburb, try starting out your morning caring for houseplants, watching urban birds, taking a walk to a local park or through your neighborhood. Making nature part of my morning routine has changed the way I feel about my life, those around me and our country.
Editor’s note: Seth Shteir has been exploring the West’s public lands and watching birds for more than 35 years. He is a natural resource, grant, environmental policy and educational specialist with more than a decade of experience analyzing public land, recreation, renewable energy, wildlife, wilderness, water, air quality and climate change issues. He lives in Helmville, Montana. Reader reactions, pro or con, are welcomed at AzOpinions@iniusa.org.
