The Solitary Snow Bunting
Authenticity Draws a Crowd
Emerging from the polar vortex, feeling the sunshine on my skin, slowly melting away the frozen and stuck places in me.
Sometimes, winter feels like a beautiful hibernation in which I can be still and occupy my inner reality. Sometimes, winter feels isolating, lonely, and frozen in place.
As the sunlight begins to penetrate more of the nooks and crannies both literally and figuratively, something beautiful emerges.
I see it when bushes or trees fruit unexpectedly in the cold and wildlife comes flocking. And I see it in myself when I come alive in my passion and others want to see what is so shiny and delicious.
Rousing from the Cave
As I grappled with the grey and dreary weather that was matching my personal outlook, an opportunity arose to more deeply explore one of my great passions - birding.
The Carolina Bird Club was hosting its winter gathering on Emerald Isle, which is on the central coast of North Carolina just south of the storied Outer Banks. With a little bit of encouragement from my family, I registered and planned my trip.
It’s a long drive from my small town in Western North Carolina to the coast, so I got up at the crack of dawn and started my drive. One of my readers had suggested that I visit Old Bynum Bridge as an excellent place to bird (Thanks Nettie!). I felt drawn to the idea. It was the first time a place one of my bird friends on Substack recommended or wrote about was in my flight path.
At first I was skeptical, the parking lot had been torn up and was inaccessible. Construction crews were actively working on it with really loud equipment. I could not hear a single bird. And then I made my way on to the bridge and took in the majesty of the Haw River and listened to a bold Carolina Wren talk to me.
As I moved across the river and further and further from the machine noise, my spirits lifted. And as I became lighter, I drew in a beautiful old man that was excited to meet me and hear about birds. His lightness and being matched what was beginning to arise in me. I felt so joyous after our conversation and that changed my day.
I reveled in each and every bird I witnessed including my first Yellow-rumped Warbler of the year and a giant pack of Cardinals. I took time to be with them and thus time to be with myself in an authentic way.
On my walk back to the car, I was regaled by the sight and sounds of a Belted Kingfisher, which always feels so special. It felt like a sacred call to attention and to bring my best self to all situations in life.
The Solitary Birder
This is the first birding event I have attended without Darcy.
I often bird alone in the early mornings or while traveling, but we always share these kinds of events. It has been an incredible boon to our deepening relationship and in sharing passions and honestly one of the greatest gifts in my life.
Needless to say, when I arrived at the hotel I felt a bit shy. I am typically personable and extroverted, I learned well from my father, who can connect with almost anyone. But sometimes, when I feel out of my depths or in this case, not having my birding buddy, I am quiet. I felt like a Dark-eyed Junco, almost hidden in plain sight and not making a noise, despite the excitement I was feeling in my heart.
I kept to myself and got a good night’s sleep, knowing I had an early start and long day of birding ahead. I was so excited to go out in the morning, I was the first person to arrive for the trip. It was a cold, blustery morning as nine of us headed out to the Hoop Hole Creek and Calico Creek.
I was taking so much in - being brand new, all of the unfamiliar faces, trying to understand how I was supposed to act, handling the freezing cold and high wind, and my excitement to see new birds. I am not sure I ever really got into rhythm until the very end of the morning when we arrived back at our cars and were greeted by a silly pack of White Ibises wandering through the neighborhood where we parked.
Thrown a Lifeline
I have lived in the Appalachian Mountains almost my entire life. I grew up in the mountains of Upstate New York and have spent most of my adulthood living in the mountains of Western North Carolina. A vast majority of the time I have spent with birds has been with the migratory and year round songbirds.
I have spent plenty of time at the coast and have many fond memories there but I know far fewer shorebird species and even less waterfowl. One of my goals this year has been getting to know ducks, geese and shorebirds better. And this winter outing did not disappoint.
My afternoon field trip was to Fort Macon State Park in Atlantic Beach, NC. I went to lunch alone and so arrived early at the rendezvous point. I connected with a great couple there that had been on my morning trip and were also early. It was nice to finally begin to thaw and genuinely connect.
Once we hooked up with the rest of the group it was rapid fire action for the entire afternoon. Our group leader worked for the North Carolina Wildlife Commission and spent his work days doing bird counts. Additionally, we had three or four other longtime birders that loved sharing their knowledge and sightings though their scopes. To top it off, we had a fourteen year old wunderkind that really knew his birds. I felt like Darcy had joined me!
In the course of 3 hours, we saw 40 species of birds, six of them were lifers and a few of them were rare! I was so excited when I got back to the hotel that evening and the trip leader had already uploaded his list, I sent a screenshot home to Darcy to let him know what we saw and also that I was thinking about him.
That night as I was looking around the room as people gathered for a group social and speaker, I started to feel more thawed and more at home. Everyone in the room may have been a stranger to me when I arrived, but we all love birds for a myriad variety of reasons that are individually unique and collectively a wonder.
Follow the Mob
I woke up fresh and excited and ready for the day. The forecast called for rain and so our morning trip to the Cedar Point Tidelands and Emerald Island Woods consisted of just five people. I couldn’t have asked for a better group.
There was something about the intimacy and demeanor of the people I was with that let me come alive to myself. And even though we didn’t see any new lifers, after my rush the previous day, I was delighted with each and every bird we spotted.
A common refrain throughout the weekend was, “oh it's just a Yellow-rumped warbler.” That is because there are more of these common warblers spotted in the county we were in every winter than anywhere else in the country. Whereas those sweet butterbutts may be common, I was so happy to see each and every one of them and let my love for them and chickadees and titmice and you name it ooze from my lips.
We managed to spot a Blue-headed Vireo that was skulking in the bushes. One of the people in the group, Celia, couldn’t spot it and I patiently helped make sure she did. She told me later that this sighting and the experience of me making sure she saw it was her favorite moment from the trip. To me it was this sense of aliveness that was really coming through as we collectively journeyed together.
We made a quick stop in some woods near the hotel before heading back for the last trip of the weekend. As soon as we stepped out of the car, I heard a party of Blue Jays rioting up ahead. Celia and I looked at each other and almost ran to see the source of the riot. Sure enough, we looked up in the pines and who was sitting up there minding her own business and trying to nap but a beautiful Great Horned Owl. What a gift!
Birds of a Feather
The rain started to pick up, but my last trip was a car tour of the North River Wetlands Preserve. Peggy, who was part of my group in the morning, asked if she could ride along with me for the trip. We chatted the whole drive out and much of the tour and went to dinner together afterwards. It was lovely.
The wetlands were incredible and the trip was dedicated to John Fussell, a world renowned local birder who helped protect the place we were touring. It was so special and filled with all kinds of treats. We saw 40 species and once again I added a bunch of new birds to my life list including Wilson’s Snipe, Common Gallinules and the ohhhhhhhhhhhh so cute Pied-billed Grebes.
As we were driving out, Peggy encouraged me to take a side trip to see a rare Snow Bunting that was camped out at a local ferry terminal. We stopped to stretch first and I invited the couple I connected with at Fort Macon the previous day. They were so struck with our enthusiasm that they agreed and we were off.
We did the 20 minute drive to the terminal and I grabbed my binoculars and camera. I thought we were going to have to work hard and might not see the bunting. But Peggy was sure we would. We were tromping through the grass and looking up and all around for it when she screamed. The Snow Bunting was just chilling in the grass right in front of us and we almost stepped on it.
I can’t even begin to describe how magical it was to be in the presence of this sweet little bird. The Snow Bunting was not supposed to be here, but for some reason, while passing through, it decided it wanted to spend its winter on the lovely North Carolina coast. And in its quiet presence it was magnetic. This little cutie drew passionate birders every day to say hi, the four of us included. What an incredible way to finish the weekend.
When all is said and done, I feel kind of like that Snow Bunting. When I am really grounded in my passions and let my heart crack wide open it feels magnetic. I invite people in rather than residing on my lonely island. I am truly grateful to all of the birds and bird lovers out there that help me remember that.
Insightful piece Scot. Reminded me of my own first magical moment looking out over the vast expanse of water the Haw River joined up with on being dumped into that vividly striking destination.
Love the shot of the Great Horned Owl!