I’m going to start today’s column with an acknowledgment: I am being purely self-indulgent today. Perhaps many of you will understand when I say that I am tired. I’ve been bombarded with unhappy news for months and it seems like there is no end in sight. Fires in the West became so large that their smoke turned our sky white for a week. COVID-19 isn’t going away any time soon and the approach of flu season is adding a further, frightening complication. Then there is always the world of politics to soothe our nerves.
There are days when I just want to pull the covers over my head and hibernate until spring.
So, I have found that it is imperative that I get outside and immerse myself in nature whenever I can. I was able to pursue this interest at an extraordinary level during the summer, but ever since school started up again I have found myself feeling somewhat down in the dumps. Every weekday, I drive to a building where I must sit in a classroom by myself and hold virtual lessons with students who are at home. As the days get shorter, there is less and less time to enjoy the outdoors once I return home from work.
As a result, weekends have become increasingly important to me. As long as it isn’t raining, I will go outside at the crack of dawn and spend some precious morning time alone in nature; this is exactly what I did on Saturday, Sept. 19. I awoke before sunrise, discovered that the temperature was only 36 degrees Fahrenheit, put on some warm clothes, grabbed a cup of coffee and headed down to my “thinking chair” (henceforth called the “TC”) at the edge of the meadow behind my house.
In addition to coffee, camera and notepad, I always bring a little bag of birdseed with me. There is a small feeding platform that I installed down by my TC and I put out seed every time I spend any time there. As the months of summer progressed, I also placed a small pile of seed on the top of a post to which I attached some trail signs. The birds are so comfortable with me now that there are mornings when they are already waiting for me by the time I arrive.
As a naturalist and photographer, I have long had the goal of simply becoming a part of the background. I want the birds to become so familiar and comfortable with me that they don’t really care that I am present. They certainly notice that I am there, but I want them to be completely at ease so they go about their lives while I take photos. I want to melt into the landscape and become nothing more than a rock or a tree that they have to fly around.
Well, on that special Saturday morning, I finally accomplished my goal. I placed a small handful of birdseed on my right knee and waited to see if any of the chickadees would be brave enough to come that close. I didn’t even need to wait 5 minutes before one of those wonderful little birds took the chance. The bird was certainly hesitant at first, but it soon abandoned its caution.
A barrier had been broken.
As long as I didn’t move my leg, the chickadees would continue to land on my knee. I could move my arms, raise my camera and even take photos (the clicking of the shutter can sometimes be alarming to birds) and it didn’t matter. I literally had birds crawling all over me. After an hour, I decided to take it up a notch and I placed a small pile of seed on top of my “Birding University” baseball hat. In less than two minutes, I had chickadees on my head and I must confess that, in that moment, I was as happy as a child who was smothered with puppies.
The birds were unfazed by my movements, my talking, or even by the presence of my sister who was able to take a photo of the situation for me. In fact, the chickadees became so completely relaxed that they would actually land on me and linger over the pile of birdseed while they selected the specific morsels that struck their fancy at the moment.
Most importantly, I felt a soothing wave of calm and happiness wash over me. Sure, it was cold and sure I was a bit stiff from sitting in the TC for an hour and a half, but I felt nothing but joy. The stress melted away and the world didn’t seem so complicated.
It was a little vacation from reality.
Today, as we enjoy the first days of autumn, I want you to consider looking for refuge in nature. It might be during a lunch break, or it might be on an early-morning walk. It might be on your deck after work, or it might be while you’re out for a jog. Find a moment to get outside, breathe the fresh air and let the worries of the world melt away. Sit in the lawn and read a book. Lean against a tree and listen to the leaves sing in the breeze.
Whatever you do, I promise that it will make you feel better.
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 23 years and chickadees started landing on his head about a week ago. He has worked for the National Park Service, the US Forest Service and the Massachusetts State Parks and currently teaches high school biology and physics. Visit www.speakingofnature.com for more information, or head over to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.