I might have felt foolish and shallow, walking down a peaceful, sunlit lane to the ocean, holding my phone aloft.
But I didn’t, because I was in the zone. I was recording birdsong.
Technology is bringing me closer to nature, as paradoxical as that might sound.
I have become an avid user of the Merlin app, created by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, and the bird and plant recognition function on my iPhone. They help me recognize what I’m hearing and seeing in the great outdoors.
On this day, headed down to the Giant’s Steps path on Bailey Island, I could hear a cardinal and something else, a song I’d never heard before. What was it? On the screen, “Northern Cardinal” popped up, with a tiny picture of a male of the species. Then, “American Goldfinch.” Since I do see goldfinches in our backyard at home, I didn’t think that was what I was hearing. Ah, but there is what the unfamiliar song bird must have been: a “Ruby-crowned Kinglet.”
Woo-hoo!
Back in the day, I had a set of bird song recognition recordings on cassette. I’d play them in the car, and gained a rudimentary knowledge of the songs of familiar garden birds. I’m talking basic — the chickadee and cardinal, etc. But it really made me happy to understand what I was hearing.
For some reason, I also remember the barn owl and wood thrush. The former I’ve yet to hear in life, but I have recognized thrushes while walking in the woods.
Thrushes are a delight. Henry David Thoreau wrote of them: “This is the only bird whose note affects me like music. It lifts and exhilarates me.”
I would agree. Plus, being able to name what I am hearing adds immeasurably to the experience.
During the pandemic, stuck at home, I became more interested in the goings-on in my backyard. My desk faces a garden enclosed by the L shape of the house, a fence and the garage. In the center is an old pear tree, and there are also numerous bushes. With two feeders, a suet holder and two birdbaths, it is a perfect spot for birds and, yes, squirrels. A couple of chipmunks, too.
The visitors to our urban garden weren’t exotic, but they were varied: chickadees, cardinals, blue jays, sparrows, catbirds, woodpeckers, robins, titmice, nuthatches, goldfinches, mourning doves and yellow warblers.
It was entertaining to watch between Zoom meetings. Sometimes during Zoom meetings. As the weather improved, I was sometimes able to work outside on the deck. I became even more immersed in watching “my” birds and mammals.
By fall I was back at work. Times were still stressful, though. I was heartened to see raptors, probably hawks, circling over my workplace. Now I had different birds to watch.
I hadn’t done much to improve my knowledge, though. I thought of taking an online class, and still haven’t ruled that out. But right now, I’m having too much fun with Merlin.
The app allows users to save recordings, which are location- and date-stamped. I haven’t gone too far afield yet this spring, so most of my recordings have been made in my backyard, neighborhood and along the Kennebec River Rail Trail.
I have learned that an eastern phoebe apparently visits my yard, although I’ve never seen one there. I now know what a Carolina wren sounds like. I have verified my identification of the song sparrow and titmouse.
I’m sure I’ll be hearing different birds now that the weather is warming and my husband, Paul, and I hike in different locations.
Recently, along the RiverWalk in Waterville, I identified a northern mockingbird and a killdeer. If I had seen them, I could also have named them photographically, using Merlin or my iPhone.
I discovered this function on my phone by accident, and now I’m hooked on it. I click on the “information” icon and, voila, I find out what bird, plant, flower or tree I have just photographed.
Since I use my phone’s camera, and not sophisticated photographic equipment, I don’t often get usable images of birds that I can identify. However, the phone came in handy when I saw what I believed to be a sparrow in the garden. I couldn’t get too close, but was able to crop the photo enough for the artificial intelligence to recognize it as a finch.
It is also handy for learning the names of the spring bulbs that are now blooming around the yard. Paul planted quite a few of them last year, and I should have made a list of the new varieties. So I’m glad to be able to name glory-of-the-snow, and scilla, and to learn that the pretty pink and yellow star-shaped flowers were actually a kind of tulip.
In an article for The Washington Post, climate advice columnist Michael J. Coren describes four free nature identification apps, including Merlin.
He writes: “I’m now on a first name basis with most of my wild neighbors. It has reconnected me to a natural world I love, yet never studied deeply enough to know all its characters and settings.”
I couldn’t agree more, and would just add, “It’s great to meet you, Ms. Ruby-crowned Kinglet.”
Liz Soares welcomes email at lizzie621@icloud.com.
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