Tag: pa birding

Catch Me Outside for 1,000 Hours

Animal tracks in the snow

On the first 40-degree day of February, I went on a long walk. It was my first walk as part of my 2025 goal: spend 1,000 hours outside by December 31st.

I don’t choose traditional resolutions. Instead, I pick one big goal for the year, and work hard to achieve it. Past goals have been reading 100 books, folding 1,000 paper cranes, and going on a book-buying ban. This year, my mom recommended that I try to spend 1,000 hours outside in a calendar year.

New Woodpecker Hole
Wood Chips from the Woodpecker

This goal aligns with my belief that everyone should be spending more time outside. The founder of 1,000 Hours Outside suggests that children who spend many hours outside per day have improved health and wellness. I disagree with the founder’s other beliefs, but have found evidence to support this claim. A review found that outdoor play is a practical method for improving children’s health (McCurdy, 2010). Another article suggests that exposure to many different bird species outdoors can improve mental health (Methorst, 2024). Birding is an excellent vehicle for improving health on the sly (Dresser, 2024). As I’m working on improving my health, spending more time outside should help.

I also chose this goal with the hope of breaking a screen addiction. On average, I spend about 4 hours per day on my iPhone. I know I spend at least 8 hours per day working on my laptop. Even with a little overlap, this amounts to almost 70 hours of screentime per week! When I’ve spent long periods of time spending 90 minutes or less on my iPhone per day, I have improved mental health. Sure, this is anecdotal evidence, but it is my experience. I want to replace this non-work-related screen time with time spent in nature.

As odd as this may sound, I also chose this goal to help me reconnect with the outdoors. After a tough winter, I’m disconnected from the natural world around me. I admit that in January, I was getting out 1 to 2 times per week. I’m craving spending time outdoors to explore and enjoy the natural world.

Stereum complicatum (Crowded Parchment)

I started tracking on Monday, and got an hour in right away. I let myself meander through the park and enjoy myself rather than hustle to achieve a step goal. I was able to take notice of some mosses and lichens, and found a fresh woodpecker hole in a tree. I felt refreshed, and had a super productive afternoon afterwards.

While I’m starting out a little behind, I know I’ll catch up soon. I’m counting down the days to when I can go hiking and kayaking at the park. I’ve squirreled away the pennies for a hammock rack to put in my yard for reading outdoors. Our grilling station is set up and ready for when it’s not snowing or raining. I’ve been making plans for spring hikes with my siblings. I’m very energized and excited about finishing this goal- and I’ll bring you along with me!

Have you attempted a 1,000 hours outside challenge?

Hope & Wild Things

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all
Emily Dickinson

The first stanza of Emily Dickinson’s poem on hope rings true- especially in this past week. My despair over the state of our nation’s leadership swelled in its intensity. Coupled with the below-zero temperatures, I drifted through the weekend. I struggled to stay warm and hold up against the news and my fear of the furnace breaking down. I needed to find some peace, and some hope.

While out walking, I thought of Wendell Berry, finding peace among the wild things. Over my head fluttered European Starlings, calling to each other. In spite of the cold, they squawked and screamed, carrying on in their raucous ways as if it were any other day. Back in my yard, birds of many species fed on the seed I had scattered. While usually the Dark-Eyed Juncos and House Finches would fight- they did not. All were too focused on survival to slip into argument.

Birdwatching always brings me peace. When I was a teen, I would keep up my parents’ feeders in the winter, filling each one after caring for my goats. I would sit on the bench in the kitchen with my tea and watch as Blue Jays and Northern Cardinals swept into the yard. Black-Capped Chickadees would follow me during my midday water check. When dusk would settle over the mountain, the birds would roost in the trees, waiting for morning.

The quiet routine of cleaning feeders and stocking suet help the days pass. One day, it’s October, and the last of the fall migrants disappear. The next, it’s December, and established flocks of songbirds are floating in and out of the yard. At last, it’s March, and the early spring migrants are taking a pit-stop on their journey north. Spring inches forward at the rate of one minute per day.

For me, the creep from winter solstice to spring equinox is laden with long periods of thought. At this moment, I’m consumed by my worries for our lands’ future. Already the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge has lost its protection from oil drilling. I fear for a renewal in fracking in Pennsylvania, an industrial pursuit I despise. There is only so much angry complaining I can do- only so many strongly-worded letters and emails I can write. There are only so many aggressive phone calls I can make.

Even if fighting is natural for all animals, it is not the option I want to choose. Caring for my community, both human and wild, is the path I want to follow. I can start in my yard, tending to the birds as I always do. I can carry on with bringing nature journaling to my community… Giving my time and effort to support educational experiences in public settings. I do believe I am not alone- there are hundreds, if not thousands, of similar people in Pennsylvania.

I cannot, and will not despair. There are wild things, feathered things, counting on me. Birds don’t know of human politics and maneuvers. I cannot lie in my bed to rot when there are creatures that need me to break the ice in their watering dish. I cannot retreat inside of myself when there are decisions to make in my community. Spring will come again, one day at a time.

Nature Walk Diary, 1-11-25

Saturday dawned with three-quarters of an inch of fresh, new snow. After my coffee, I bundled up to take a walk to the dock and do some birding. At 28 degrees with a soft breeze, the day felt warmer than the week before. A blue, sunny sky stretched overhead as I set off, first noticing some bird tracks on my front stoop.

A light wind pushed at me while I noted the birds in a neighbor’s yard: Dark-eyed Juncos, House Finches, and a Blue Jay. The dulcet tones of Lick Run overpowered any bird song. The groundwater-fed stream was free-flowing and ultra clear. I love the look of the creek flowing under the railroad bridge… I swear I have a thousand shots of that sight alone!

I continued on my walk, ambling up the hill. To my left, the thick briars on the steep hillside was full of birds. I let some cars pass and sidled up the guardrail to take a sound recording with Merlin. Merlin recognized Carolina Wrens, Tufted Titmice, Northern Cardinals, and American Robins. Before I turned off the recording, a new call broke out, one I was not familiar with.

A high, sharp repeating cheep rung out and paused before starting over. Merlin claimed it was a Golden-Crowned Kinglet. It continued to call after I closed Merlin and started looking for the bird in the thicket. Near the top of a bush was a small, darting bird with a shock of yellow on its head. A bright dark eye flashed under a white stripe… the Kinglet! The bird was here and gone before I could raise my camera. Dejected, I continued on my walk to the dock.

The closer I approached the lake, the more quiet the brush became. I ended my checklist with 12 species, the typical bunch of feeder birds plus the Kinglet. Once in the dock’s parking lot, I appreciated the beauty of the frozen lake. From my spot, I could see all the way to the breast of the dam, complete with a white velvet carpet of snow.

Rabbit tracks crossed the path to the dock platform. At least two rabbits had been dashing back and forth in the new snow. One rabbit had ventured out on the ice, crossing from the peninsula to the shore once. I had heard the ice was almost 3 inches thick at the Hunter Run Cut, but I wasn’t stupid enough to step out. Ice ought to be 4 inches or more thick before it’s acceptable to walk upon.

I dawdled a little longer, collecting two seed pods and a mushroom to draw back at home. I had seen the mushroom earlier this fall and wanted to explore its shape on paper. One of the seed pods was from the sycamore tree near the shore. I suspect a rushing squirrel broke the brittle tip of the branch.

As a cloud floated across the sun, I turned for home. The walk back to the house was slow- I stopped a few times to take more Merlin recordings. I strained to listen for the Kinglet back along the hillside, but I didn’t catch a single note or feather. Despite my disappointment, I did feel pleased at heart- I started off the new year with a new bird on my life list!

Recounting the Christmas Bird Count

Black Vultures

On December 29th, I participated in my first Audubon Christmas Bird Count. Armed with my binoculars and camera, I loaded up in my friend’s Subaru. Four of us set off into the morning mists to cruise through a variety of habitat to find as many species as we could. We had no goals- our only expectation was to explore our corner of the circle and hope for species diversity.

At our first pull-off, a huge flock of thrush-sized birds flew overhead. At first, we thought they were European Starlings, but they didn’t seem quite right. Their flight calls were too cheerful to be the omnipresent nuisances. A long Merlin recording determined them to be American Robins. Throughout the morning we sighted one large flock after another. The Robins were taking advantage of the warm, rainy weather to hunt for earthworms.

In a small development, we crept towards a small group of vultures sunning on a tree branch. At first, we thought they were Turkey Vultures. As our position was okay, we snapped some pictures and realized the birds were Black Vultures. While my photograph is poor, I could see their white primaries spread for the sun. Their behavior was a little ironic- at this point in the day, the mists hung heavy over the fields… a great day for a goth bird!

Hermit Thrush

As our morning wore on, we noted plenty of “standard” winter feeder birds. At almost every stop a Carolina Wren or Northern Cardinal would call out. While we didn’t always see them- there were plenty of Paridae. Black-Capped Chickadees and Tufted Titmice often flock together in the winter. Tufted Titmice are my favorite feeder bird, and I took on the role of counting them at our stops.

A continual delight was the melody of White-Throated Sparrows. Too small and fast for my camera, they danced around the shrubs of every stop. For such a small bird, their voices are loud and carried wherever they went. At one stop, they were the only birds we could hear over an agitated Northern Cardinal. I hadn’t paid much attention to White-Throated Sparrows before, but now they are on my radar for the future.

During an unrewarding trip up a wooded lane, a medium-sized brown bird popped out on a branch near my window. From the back, and through fogged glasses, it looked like a very fat wren. After wiping my glasses and picking up my camera, the bird turned and revealed itself to be a Hermit Thrush. This was my first one- and I was able to snap a half-decent shot!

Eastern Bluebird

As our day waned, we finally traded in the forests for edge habitat. Overgrown, mixed hedgerows rose high over the car as we sidled down a muddy country lane. A few winter feeder birds popped over us, and as we were turning we noticed a flash of blue further away. Hopping out, all four of us trained our binoculars on a flurry of activity on a berry bush- Eastern Bluebirds! On a high, we headed to the last part of our route.

Construction blocked the usual route, so a quick detour got us back on track. We spotted another Red-Tailed Hawk and an American Kestrel surveying roadways for prey. The area we were birding was close to I-99, making it hard to hear birds over the roar of the road. A few more American Robins added to the list, and we closed up shop, heading back to our meeting place to disband.

Our day was five and a half hours of pure birding- starting at 7:15am and ending at 12:45pm. On this trip, I was able to add to my life list and learn new camera tricks. Already I can say this trip was the highlight of my long holiday vacation!

Practicing Bird Photography

Fresh snow coated the earth on Monday morning, making my daily birding easy from my spot at the window. Birds came and went, the usual suspects… Mourning Doves, Purple Finches, Tufted Titmice, and a Dark-eyed Juncos. Despite looking at birds more than my laptop, I didn’t see any American Goldfinches like I did the day before. At last, lunch came, and I could try something new: sneak out with my camera and take some pictures.

I bought a Canon Rebel T6 off of Facebook Marketplace two months ago. After replacing the batteries and buying an SD card, I haven’t had a chance to use it. I’ve been studying on how to best take pictures, but all advice pointed to “practice makes perfect.” I changed out to the larger zoom lens from my kit and slipped on my boots to wait on the porch for birds.

A handful of birds took off the second I opened the door. Left behind were two confused Mourning Doves. One belatedly shot into the upper canopy of the maple tree, too far away for me to capture in a photo. The other chose a lower spot, eyeing me as I stood still on my porch. I snapped a couple shots in quick succession before it, too, left for higher branches.

After about three minutes, the Tufted Titmice swarmed back into my feeders. At least three small family units visit my feeders daily. One brave bird swooped into my light-blue metal hopper and stole away with a sunflower seed. Others were dangling off the branches of the maple tree, waiting for their turn.

The Tufted Titmice were hard for me to photograph. They sprint across the yard, and when landed at the feeder, they antagonize each other. Of course, it’s in their nature to dine-and-dash, preferring to crack seeds at a high, safe spot than down at the feeder. Tufted Titmice also form hoards of food over the winter, so some will grab a seed and disappear. It was easiest to photograph them when they were watching me for sudden movements. The entire time I was photographing the Titmice, I was holding my breath!

I watched them come and go for ten minutes- Titmice dominate my feeders at any point during the day. A Red-Bellied Woodpecker flew overhead, and decided to not munch at the suet upon spotting me. A handful of Dark-eyed Juncos came to forage on the ground, but I missed a chance at photographing them. Their dark upper halves contrasted too much against the snow and white bellies.

As the end of my lunch drew near, the birds started to dwindle in my yard. My neighbor’s feeder, out of my camera’s view, was bustling with Purple Finches. I can imagine the birds felt safer with the shrubs and arbor between me and their tiny bodies. With their feeder so busy, a small group of birds waited on the far branches of the maple tree.

I leaned on the support of my porch roof as I zoomed into their spot. My movement scared away all except for one female, who ignored my existence. With the light misty sky behind her, the shot appeared too dark on my camera. Dejected, I went back inside, feeling that my experiment was a failure.

At my desk, I fumbled with the camera settings to import the pictures to my iPhone. I almost gave up in frustration, but with the help of a Youtube video, I figured it out in the nick of time. The last five minutes of my lunch break was total awe, admiring my pictures. I had never, in my life, taken a picture of a bird. I could see the subtle colors of the Mourning Dove and the gleam of a Titmouse’s eye. Satisfied, I put my camera away and went back to work, planning the next time to photograph birds in my backyard.