By Jennifer Wilson-Pines
Two weeks ago I attended the NY State Ornithological Association annual conference. Though I whimpered out of the field trips because of pouring rain, the lectures and workshops were fascinating. A lunchtime speaker on the Spark Bird Project piqued my interest.
A spark bird is the bird that, no matter how ordinary, brings attention to all sorts of birds.
The speaker, Dr. Jennifer Lodi-Smith, a psychologist, had started the project when she discovered this was something most birders had experienced. She described the project as “a tool of psychological science to understand birders and the experience of birding. It aims to inform how organizations can connect with current and future birders as well as to help birders better understand each other. The Spark Bird Project addresses sparks, benefits, opportunities, resources, and barriers in birding. The stories from founding Spark Birders are rich with appreciation of the beauty in nature in general and birds in particular.”
Since I was also attending a nature writing workshop that afternoon, it seemed like a perfect conjunction to write about my own spark bird.
When I was 12, my parents bought an old farmhouse on a former sod farm just outside of Madison, WI. The derelict barn still stood behind the house, a magnetic attraction for kids. We climbed the beams and played in the piles of hay in our own private kingdom. The road in front of the house was dusty gravel and a few minutes walk out of the back door brought us to corn fields of the next farm. We had no neighbors until the former farm was subdivided and houses began to be built.
I would take our dog, Mickie, a cocker spaniel mix, and go on long rambles into the countryside, along the lightly traveled roads and across the fields. These walks didn’t have a particular purpose, I just liked being outdoors seeing how things had changed since I last walked that way.
On one ramble in early winter, the road was slicked with a skin of ice and the grasses were crunchy underfoot and etched with frost crystals. An ice storm the night before had silvered the landscape. At the top of the hill I saw a puddle with a bubbly white crust of ice begging to be stomped. Twigs from a small shrub had bent into the puddle from the ice weight.
I noticed a small blob of feathers stuck to the ice where the twigs bent over. I looked closer and saw it was a sparrow, ice dusting its feathers. I picked it up, thinking it had frozen, but felt a small pulse of life. I stuck the soggy bundle of fluff inside my parka against my chest. As it warmed, it began to stir, not with fear, but more nestling into the comfort of the heat it was receiving.
I talked to it as I walked and felt its spark returning. After a while it shook itself as if to say, OK I’m back, so I lifted it out and let it sit on my palm, almost weightless now that it was dry. It sat very calmly for a few minutes then flew off. I wished it a happy life and continued my walk, but it was a changing experience, to feel that tiny life resurrect over my heart.
This spark didn’t immediately turn me into a passionate birder, as I was occupied with teen drama, moving away for college and the not terribly exciting life of a broke 20-something in NYC. I wasn’t aware of the birds packed into Central Park because that oasis in its concrete surround didn’t fit my stereotype of where you find birds.
But the embers still simmered and when we moved to Long Island, which felt like a place where I could find real nature, I put up a feeder at our new house and bought a guide book. And the birds came, each with unique qualities observed from the kitchen window. I made notes in the margins of the guide book, and felt the urge for more, to see those birds that were in the book, but not my yard. I joined the local Audubon chapter and went on walks, learning from the more experienced birders who were happy to share their passion.
Eventually I became an experienced birder, though there wasn’t a moment that I could pinpoint that transition, and there is still so much more to learn and see. Now I pass it along as a trip leader, assuring new converts that everyone starts from square one, makes mistakes, and expands their knowledge. That it’s a process that can take a lifetime, but a lifetime of excitement and challenges with every season.
More Spark Bird stories and information about the project can be found at http://www.spark-bird.org/home
