Faith and Values: Let us not ‘hurry past the things worth seeing’
Apparently I’m birding-years old.
A few months ago a friend sent me a meme that had been going around. It read, “As you age, it’s ridiculous how fast bird-watching catches up to you. You spend your whole life being 100% indifferent to birds, and then one day you’re like ‘damn is that a yellow-rumped warbler?’”
The meme isn’t wrong.
I have four bird feeders hanging in the yard, placed where I can see them from a window when I pass by. I make sure the feeders are always filled and cleaned. I give the birds warm water on freezing mornings.
I have an app that tracks what birds I see and participate in Cornell’s FeederWatch.
This path was inevitable for me. My aunt runs Discovery Bay Wild Bird Rescue in Port Townsend, Washington, and before that she was a wildlife rehabilitator in New Mexico.
Some of my best childhood memories come from spending time at her house in Albuquerque where she was always caring for something I was captivated by: a fawn, an owl, a turkey vulture (named Sweet Pea). For a time she even raised a bear cub.
I’ve always been inspired by my aunt’s work, but now I realize how sacred it is.
Farmer, poet and environmental activist Wendell Berry said caring for the earth is our most ancient, worthy and pleasing responsibility. That includes the wondrous wild creatures we share this planet with.
Berry is one of many people who have shaped my theology.
My wife and I even read his poem, “The Wild Rose,” at our wedding.
Berry often writes about the human-nature relationship, which is something I didn’t truly value until I moved to the Pacific Northwest.
This is where I found my love for the outdoors. I’ve explored endless trails across the region, usually with my pup in tow. Until I was married, it had become my tradition to spend any and all holidays in solitude with nature.
The evergreens here, streams and songbirds have become my church, the place I go to center myself.
Berry’s words come to mind again in his poem “I Go Among the Trees and Sit Still.”
“I go among trees and sit still.
All my stirring becomes quiet
Around me like circles on water.
My tasks lie in their places
Where I left them, asleep like cattle…
Then what I am afraid of comes.
I live for a while in its sight.
What I fear in it leaves it,
And the fear of it leaves me.
It sings, and I hear its song.”
I can’t fully escape my “stirrings,” as he puts it. My tasks, worries, anxieties always resurface.
It seems each day my to-do list gets a little longer: edit, write, grade, manage.
Venturing out on a healing hike seems impossible some days – especially when the temperatures drop below zero!
But recently another author, Lyanda Lynn Haupt helped me see things differently.
In “Crow Planet” she introduces readers to the urban wilderness that surrounds us and reminds us that we don’t need to venture to far away places to encounter nature’s genius.
She writes, “The urban naturalist has the terrific luxury of stepping out her door and into ‘the field’ … When does the field trip begin? Whenever we start paying attention.”
Hence the bird feeders.
I find myself inspired by these little creatures as they sing, no matter the day’s tasks.
There’s something about awe that’s holy.
Haupt writes, “We practice wonder by resisting the temptation to hurry past things worth seeing, but it can take work to transcend our preconceived standards for what that worth might be.”
I’d like to think I’m following my aunt’s lead and looking after the wild things in my backyard, but really, they’re caring for me.
Tracy Simmons, a longtime religion reporter, is a Washington State University scholarly assistant professor and the editor of FāVS News, a website dedicated to covering faith, ethics and values in the Spokane region.