A great blue heron hides behind a curtain of cattails. This is one of my mom’s favorite birds. A trip to a pond is hardly complete without spotting one. My mom has renamed it the “great big giant blue heron.”
My mom had known about my birding adventures and annual list of bird sightings for a while. She was not a birder, but her curiosity finally eclipsed her reluctance, and she started accompanying me on some of my birding outings a few years ago.
Birding with people who have an established interest in birds is nice, but I highly recommend forcing bringing people who lack the initial interest or even an understanding of birds or why one would bother seeking them out. Taking my mom birding is like taking someone who does not like or understand art to an art museum. The entertainment value alone is priceless.
It was not long before my mom developed skills in bird identification. A breakthrough occurred when she identified the American coot all by herself (with the help of Google). In a pond filled with blue-winged teals and mallards, she noticed a plump black bird with an eye-catching white beak. After describing the bird to the Internet, she learned the American coot’s name. Soon she was pointing out red-winged blackbirds and turkey vultures. Her identification prowess continues to grow. Sometimes she flat out guesses, but her guesses are often correct.
When Mom learns a bird’s name for the first time, she tries to figure out why that name was given to that bird. The red-winged blackbird, with its red and yellow shoulder patches, was an easy case. Other name bestowals were less obvious. When I pointed out the mourning dove, she asked if there was an evening dove. I explained the word was not “morning” but “mourning” and that the name referred to the bird’s melancholy call.
While she might contemplate birds’ given names, my mom often assigns birds alternative names. After I told her about the peregrine falcon, she looked up the raptor’s picture and immediately noticed the bright yellow legs. The peregrine falcon became the “pair-of-yellow-boots falcon.” Some bird names simply deserve to be longer. The great blue heron, one of her favorites, is known as the “great big giant blue heron.”
Speaking of favorites, my mom has said that her favorite birds, or simply those she can readily identify, are the bigger birds. She says, “I can see them.” Great big giant blue herons, great egrets, and bald eagles are large enough to be noticed from a distance. Other favorites that lack the larger size are the American coot, pied-billed grebe, and blue-gray gnatcatcher.
One day Mom drove down a quiet road while I scanned the area for birds from the passenger seat. Seeing a gull fly by, I pointed out the bird with its more common but inaccurate name: “A seagull.”
“An eagle?” Mom shouted as she abruptly slammed on the breaks.
“A seagull,” I annunciated.
Extremely underwhelmed, Mom said, “Oh,” and continued driving.
Mom’s competitive nature shines when she goes birding. Life list birds are her aim. Racking up daily species numbers is another aim. She wants to find new or rare birds and has been known to visit eBird on her own volition in order to search for them. When we go out, she will say we might find a “purple polka-dotted long-tailed flamingo sparrow” or another fictious rarity that would be new to science.
A whole additional layer of fun is likely to be added to birding outings when I am accompanied by my mom. Humorous commentary, animated frustration, and fierce competitiveness are all displayed. A reluctant birder at first, my mom has demonstrated increased interest in birds and noticeable refinement in her birding abilities. Her knowledge surprises even herself. When she correctly identifies a bird, she beams with self-satisfaction. “Uh-huh,” she says with a smile. “I know birds.” She does.