I just finished compiling a first draft of Field Notes for Douglas County
2015. Because I was doing a big year I was very aware of what was being
seen and where. I found quite a few of the "good birds" myself, and either
chased or wished I could chase the others.
The bank of memories birding has afforded me in my short duration to the
pastime is phenomenal. I was a successful javelin thrower in college;
however, the enormous amount of time that I spent training and competing,
and the memories that I made do not match up with the feeling that I still
hold of seeing my first Sandhill Crane in a distant field at Lower Klamath
Lake 4 years ago.
The memories I made birding Douglas County in 2015 make me yearn for the
past and that time; they allow me to escape to an idealistic place. At the
same time I have forgotten the pain of missing expected birds, getting up
hours before dawn to make it to location X by sunrise, cold and
uncomfortable nights tossing and turning in the back of my car with no
breakfast to look forward to and running water hours away.
Sometimes cold dawn would break and burn my eyes, at other times the golden
morning would lift my spirits. In either case, it was the conflict that
brought those moments, and later memories to life. Without the internal
struggle, or the struggle against nature, seemingly trying to will birds
into being, the pastime has no meaning, no significance. In the arc of the
year it was the bad moments that framed the good ones. It was the escapist
joy of the mountains and the coast that allowed me to get through another
week. It was the grueling walk, cold feet, and blisters that made the bird
worthwhile. All of the misses and the research and the driving for one
moment, or one surprise.
How much is something worth if you do not have to fight for it? Are you
willing to fight for the reward that will follow?
--
James Billstine
http://birdsandbrawn.blogspot.com/
