A big black bird was perched up on the corner of a house, one of the nice, big old houses in my neighborhood.
“Nice,” “big,” and “old” is about as precise as I can get on architecture. But I can nail down that bird. It was an American crow. It called, a single caw! Its friend, from off to my left, cawed back. Caw. Caw! Caw. Caw! The friend flew over, they chatted some more, and it flew off again. I continued on my Saturday morning walk.
My world has shrunk to my 650-square-foot apartment, my parents’ house one afternoon a week, and long, leisurely walks in my neighborhood and theirs. I’ve always liked walking, and now the walks are the highlight of my day. I used to use walking as a form of transportation. I always knew, if I ran out of steam, I could get on a bus or call a Lyft. Now there’s nowhere to go and I’m not willing to be in confined spaces with other people. My walks are smaller, closer to home, always planned to be round trips.
The suburb that I live next to is famously protective of its trees–you practically need a signed letter from God if you want to cut one down on your property. In this quiet time, I wonder why I’ve never noticed before that the neighborhood to my north is a magical fairyland of huge, leafy oaks and tulip poplars with birds upon birds upon birds, calling from afar. Now I frequently stop in the street to stare up and try to figure out what is making that sound.
I’ve always been interested in birds, and I know the common ones that live around me. But I’m noticing them so much more in the pandemic. We’re still locked down here in Washington, D.C., and even after we start to reopen I have no plans to get back to normal activity. My office isn’t reopening until September at the very earliest. My parents aren’t getting younger or lower-risk. My life is likely to continue to be very small for a while.
I think part of the reason I’m noticing the birds more is that I’m just paying more attention to the world immediately around me. I’m sure another reason is the relative quiet. While there are more cars out now than there were in the early days of late March, there still aren’t many. I can walk half a mile down a street that is usually fairly busy without one car passing me. The birds are often the loudest thing around.
Maybe my favorite thing about birds is how they live with us, but in so much more of the space. They don’t just live with us, they live around us, and above us. The crow can move from a gutter at the edge of the roof to the ground, just like that. The mockingbird who owns my building’s parking lot sings from the top of a light, then the utility pole, then the fence, then the other utility pole. Just singing wherever it pleases, loud and clear.
A lot of birding is the joy of collecting, of seeing a species you’ve never seen before. And I always like going to a new place and learning a new bird. But for me the real joy in these strange days is getting to know my own place better and better. To be familiar with the mourning doves, and with the chatty starlings that nested out back, and the hopping robins and the chirpy house sparrows. They’re all a part of my place.
On Memorial Day I took a cup of tea to a neighbor’s backyard, where we sat in chairs set far apart. She mentioned seeing more birds than usual; she agreed that it might be because she’s at home absolutely all of the time now, and going with multiple days a walk with her kid. I pointed out a white-breasted nuthatch hopping around on the corner of the neighbor’s garage, and then the sound of a cardinal singing from one of the tall trees overhead.
The Washington Post had a story the other day about people noticing birds more now. And to those people I say: Welcome. Join us. Birds are great.
You know how I feel about this. I’m delighted you’re enjoying the birds even more now. A game I like to play on walks is to count the species I encounter by sight or hearing. I’ve got 12-15 regulars in my very urbanized Arlington neighborhood.
When we moved into downtown DC 10 years ago, into a high rise condo, the one thing I told my hubs I missed the most was birds singing. But with less traffic around now I can hear the ones we have much better. A lovely mockingbird that sings me awake each morning, finches that love high elevations, crows, and my resident peregrine even made an aieee sound every once in a while. She’s gone now, hope she comes back next year to sit on my window ledge again.
Love this! Red Cardinals, Blue Jays, an American Robin, and noisy Grackles galore in our back yard. We even got a visit from a Screech Owl who rested in our fig tree. All very exotic for an exiled Brit used to sparrow and starlings.