Natural History Journal

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about a recent experience with a Rock Sandpiper in San Francisco which reminded me that birding is about more than just the birds: it's about the places the birds inhabit and the work that is being done to protect them.  But there's more.  Birding is about people, too.  It's about learning from those who are more skilled, and sharing with those newer to the field; about coming together, regardless of differences, for a common cause to admire and protect.  Ultimately, it's about more than a love of birds.  It's about humility and friendship and generosity.   I would never have found this lovely male Yellow-bellied Sapsucker if it wasn't for an unlikely friendship, forged through a mutual love of birds and our Creator.  Ed, to whom I was introduced by my father-in-law, is an avid wildlife photographer and recently shared a photo of a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker he had come across.  I was excited by his excellent "accidental"

Among my friends and family, I have always been, and will always be, "the nature girl."  The beauty of the natural world drew me in from a young age, compelling me to explore and learn, and the more I have experienced and learned, the more deeply I have fallen in love with nature.  I assume if you're reading this, there's a good chance you feel the same!  But why do we feel this way? For me, an admiration for nature is far from where it ends.  A deep love for the natural, created world is just the beginning, continuously drawing me toward something much, much bigger. There are several theories floating around out there that have been put forward to explain our "biophilia," the ingrained desire and need humans have for connecting with the natural world.  Nearly all of them recognize that humans are in some way bound to nature at the deepest level, relating strong, positive connections with the natural world to human health, happiness and well-being.  I certai

"The sandpiper is there now, 30 yards from the end of the jetty, on the left." These were the words I was greeted with, without preamble, seconds after getting out of the car at San Francisco's Heron's Head park.  An older gentleman took one look at my binoculars and knew why I had come: to get the bird.  In certain places, a pair of binoculars is like a secret sign to others that you are one of the initiated, a member of the fraternity of birders who understand the importance of getting the bird . I thanked the kind birder enthusiastically, my giddy smile bearing witness to the fact that we had indeed just driven 100 miles to see this one bird. And what a beauty he was! Denizens of rocky Arctic shorelines, Rock Sandpipers breed on mossy tundra in western Alaska and far eastern Russia.  These hardy sandpipers winter farther north than most other shorebirds, along the frigid, wave-dashed rocky coast of Alaska and the Pacific Northwest.   That being said, this particula