For the majority of enthusiasts, however, birdwatching simply provides a personal and very special entrée into the natural world. Graeme Gibson Day 1 Faint first light, swirls of yellow and orange edging above the southern horizon, the excitement of an early morning winter sit spot— this all felt familiar. The difference was I didn’t have to layer up, drive on icy roads, and trudge through deep snow to get to my destination. Instead, I was seated in…
As I edged the car door open six crows flew in suddenly, circled around a tall tree in the dim pre-dawn light, cawed loudly and continuously, landed in the gray skeletal branches, jumped back in the air, and landed again. I cautiously opened the door the rest of the way and stepped out. The crows fell silent and perched peacefully in the branches. Quite a greeting I thought as shouldered my gear preparing to walk through the woods to my…
It was that morning in October, the one after a night of heavy rain and strong wind that knocked down the leaves and now the bare branches looked more like November and it was no longer possible to think that somehow the warm days of October might go on forever. As I walked across my yard in the dim, gray, pre-dawn light I saw the gray-black, skeletal silhouettes of ash and maple trees, silent forest sentinels that would have to…
I couldn’t pinpoint the moment when I descended into a state of melancholy, a state where I felt discouraged, tired, hopeless, annoyed, even sad. As usual it was some litany of little things that added up; a misunderstanding with a friend, no clear way forward on a task that needed to be done, an appliance breaking down, persistent bad weather, an aching knee. And maybe there were bigger things lurking in the background; a worrisome health problem, a family member…
The first rays of morning sunshine pierced the dark green woods at the far end of Hankins Pond. Haunting rising and falling kek kek kek calls carried through the swirling strands of gray mist that floated over the pond. I stepped onto dew laden grass, slipped on my binocular harness, shouldered my camp stool, spotting scope and backpack, and began a slow, transition-into-nature walk down the old road that ran along the edge of the pond. I had come to…
My self-prescribed assignment was to pay attention to nature as I walked to the beaver pond where I planned to conduct an hour long sit spot. I needed this. I felt strangely depleted. Nothing life threatening bearing down, but just a lot of different, mostly good, things to get done; morning and afternoon webinars to deliver over the next two days, clinical case reports to proof and edit, road construction and tree removal bids for the borough to review, and…
My destination was a simple gray bench set atop an old sand dune alongside a nature trail in Anastasia State Park. When I had hiked by the bench it struck me as a good location for a sit spot. It was convenient, only a five minute walk from my campsite, and the top of the dune provided a good vantage point to gaze into the maritime forest overstory and understory. And perhaps most importantly, the bench had a good feel…
Prologue Michael 5:00 am I woke at 5:00 a.m. to prepare for a shared sit spot with John. We planned to meet up at 6:30 and walk to the location we had scouted out a month before. I began my early morning routine by stoking the wood stove, dressing, feeding Jean-Luc (my cat), making coffee, and snacking on a little yogurt with granola. I gathered what I needed per John’s suggestions; notebook, pencils (a pen might freeze, John told me),…
The first reason to return and complete the climb to the Haw Creek Overlook was a straightforward issue of unfinished business. A few days earlier my wife and I had made it half way up, but simply ran out of time. I was left with the feeling of a job half done, a mission uncompleted. And I could feel the pull of those compelling elements of a climb; the pursuit of goal, and the physical, emotional, even spiritual challenge of…
A Wakeup Call Tchack, Tchack, Tchack. A mockingbird’s morning salutation carried through the dim pre-dawn light ending the nighttime silence. I smiled as I walked down the three flights of outdoor steps at my timeshare in Atlantic Beach, NC. Mockingbirds, feisty, busy, birds who like a high open perch, are always the first to vocalize in the morning, almost as if it was their job to broadcast a wakeup call to all the other birds and to the wider world….