I love to go birding. There is nothing better for my soul, than to sit quietly in the woods listening to a stream gently gurgling by. The light streaming through the leaves lulls me into a reverie as I look for movement within them. Bird movement, while noticeable, is often elusive even when the air is full of birdsong. It is helpful when Micah goes along with me, as his eyes are sharper than mine. He can readily spot birds where I see nothing and can often make a positive identification without binoculars!
Do I always see birds when I go birding? Well . . . probably. I almost always see titmice, cardinals, and chickadees. I have come past the point, though, of needing to see new birds. Don't get me wrong, there are still plenty of holes in my "life list". But birding has become much more than just a counting game for me. I still love to fill in spaces in my my tattered yet beloved birding journal
Yesterday, Micah and I had a lovely birding trip. We walked quietly down the road, stopping several times to check on some movement as we went. The dogs seemed to know our purpose because they remained perfectly quiet. Near the bottom we found a lovely overlook of the branch and sat down on some mossy rocks. The sounds of birds, water and breezes filled the air. We watched the dappled light play on the forest floor. At one point we had the pleasure of watching a wild turkey cross the road without even noticing us!
Whether we sat there for fifteen minutes or an hour I really do not know. I only know that the beauty of the spring woodland worked its magic on me, and when we got moving again I felt refreshed and trouble free.