We’re celebrating #BlackBirdersWeek — and today’s theme is #LiferMemories!
In 2017, I had the opportunity to spend a bit of time in northern New Mexico. While there, I worked closely with a group of other BIPOC students and instructors, workshopping field research skills and techniques. That afternoon, we had pulled over on the side of a forested road and split into small groups. Today, we learned, my small group would be birding. Before this moment, birds were creatures that I admired from afar. I never dedicated myself to seeking them out. I had an image of my mind of what a birder looked like, and I didn't fit it. With doubts, my teammates and I slung binoculars around our necks, grabbed our guides, and headed into the woods.
Our usually reserved instructor, Becky Reyes, was immediately in her element. As a naturalist at Edinburg World Birding Center in Texas, she was lightning fast with her binoculars. She spotted birds left and right, quickly calling their locations with practiced skill. She explained concepts that seemed second nature to her with all the patience in the world. I distinctly remember her laughing at us as we huddled around her scope, rattling off the names of all the treecreepers in the guide, when she had known it was a Lewis's Woodpecker all along. Her excitement was contagious. Soon enough, we were all aaah-ing at a soaring kestrel, cooing over Black-chinned Hummingbirds.
Western Tanager photo by Andy Reago & Chrissy McClarren
While we trudged back to the bus, picking the burrs from our pants and mourning the birds we missed, we stopped to look at a tree further in the distance. Perched among countless starlings were two yellow and orange blobs. Without words, we all pulled out our binoculars, and Becky, her scope. Buzzing with excitement, she turned to us and called, "Western Tanager, that's a lifer!" I hadn't heard the term before, but when I stood there watching those two birds, I understood exactly what she meant.
Written by Milcah Rimmer, Madison Audubon summer educator (Madison)
