“In order to see birds it is necessary to become a part of the silence.” – Robert Lynd

A sharp, telephoto photograph captures a Red-shouldered Hawk perched attentively on the topmost plate of a dark brown, multi-panel cellular antenna array and lamppost mast. The hawk, facing right, is in crisp focus, revealing its intricate plumage: rich rufous-orange barred chest, black and white checkered wing patterns, and distinct tail barring. It is centrally positioned on the post. Attached to the left of the hawk is a square lamppost fixture with an antenna extending upwards, all in sharp detail. To the left and below the hawk is a soft-focused (bokeh) cluster of blurred pine trees. To the right, a large, well-defined pine tree trunk with thousands of individual, sharp needles and multiple pinecones extends high into the frame against a clear, pale grey-blue sky. The lighting is bright and clear, emphasizing the textures of both the hawk and the pine needles. The hawk is the main subject. The scene is set in an urban interface environment, likely near a park or wooded area in Southern California.

I’ll admit it: I’ve officially fallen down the participatory science rabbit hole, and my latest obsession is the Merlin Bird ID app (and no, I am not sponsored). There is something endlessly rewarding about contributing to real scientific research while simply standing in my own backyard. After my long hiatus from this space, I needed a way to reconnect with daily joy, and “birding by ear” has become my moving meditation. It’s a bit like a high-stakes game of Pokémon Go, but with actual feathers, the sheer rush of adrenaline I feel when the app identifies a rare visitor is probably more than a grown woman should admit to! Although it does denote the clear progression to the next stage of life…when one gets overly excited about birds. But beyond the tech, it’s about being present. It’s hard to worry about a mounting inbox when you’re holding your breath, phone in hand, waiting for that Red-shouldered Hawk to call again. This hawk caught my attention, by recognizing it’s call, long before I saw it, on my way to my car. I eventually followed the call to find it perching on top of the parking structure, eyeing the busy street (or prey) below. Today, I am deeply grateful for the technology that turns a simple walk into a meaningful contribution to science, and for the birds that remind me to listen, really listen, to the world around me.

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