Why i turn to birds for uplift

Note, This piece appeared first on my Substack “Kingfisher Journey” last week when I was mourning not being able to attend Fishtrap Gathering. Then, as I am today on June 30th, I perched instead in our home yard finding peace among the birds.

Outside my open window, a White-headed Woodpecker just flew to our sunflower seed feeder. Like a messenger from ancient ponderosa pine forests with spectacular standing dead trees for nesting, he whisked in as if bearing vanilla fragrance of the amber, centuries-old trees and memories of favorite haunts. I haven’t seen one for months here. Why this morning? Why now?

In my upcoming new book, Feathered Forest: Aloft with Birds in Ancient Trees, this dashing bird is one of the stars in my chapter, “Woodpecker Quartet.”

I should be at Fishtrap Writers Gathering today among my kindred spirits by Wallowa Lake, where Wes and I met each other a decade earlier. At the last minute, my chronic hamstring tendinopathy decided to flare up. After two mostly sleepless nights, I made the call to stay home and not risk an eight-hour drive to that beloved corner of northeast Oregon. Wes went alone and it’s he who will be taking a writing class from Craig Childs, whose latest book ( The Wild Dark: Finding the Night Sky in the Age of Light) won the 2026 John Burroughs Medal.

I do love that Wes is taking his first class. This Fishtrap marks ten years since our romantic meeting there in 2016. Above is a photo from that magical time.

And….I admit to wallowing in self-pity. Waving goodbye to Wes as he drove off in our Halcyon truck/camper yesterday morning, I felt like crying. Why this? Why now? Why me? But I knew it was the right decision. In two weeks, we leave for England. On July 10th, I’ll be presenting Feathered Forest at the Global BirdFair. And that’s just the beginning of a close to month-long trip where I will be depending on two good legs.

So, I’ve turned to the ongoing drama of our little wildlife haven on a cool morning before the temperatures rise to an expected 88 degrees here in Bend. This is the time of fledglings—Mountain Chickadees, Lesser Goldfinches, House Finches, Pygmy Nuthatches, and American Robins—all who nested here and raised chicks on a feast of caterpillars and other insects hosted by native plants and trees.

I’ve moved outside. A dazzling Rufous Hummingbird male alights on our bubbler water feature to sip a spray of water. He’s one of a pair and likely with a teacup of nest lashed to a hidden branch somewhere in our yard. The two also sip nectar from our blooming red columbines and tussle with each other and Anna’s Hummingbirds in aerial displays. To know that a Rufous Hummingbird as coppery and light as a US penny can fly as far as 4,000 miles (if nesting north of us in British Columbia or Alaska and then wintering in Mexico), is simply—miraculous.

No matter how I feel, the birds of our home place bring me joy. They uplift my spirits in the way of bird wings. When I hold a fallen primary wing feather and glide my fingers up and down the vane to unhook and hook the delicate barbs and barblets, I am put back together again.

Birds at home do something more. Each one is a portal to wild forests—many that need protectors more than ever now. Rufous Hummingbirds face perilous declines of 60 percent since 1970. Their wilder homes can be in surprising places. I’ve seen them in the sunny wildflower gaps among the lush, ancient forests at the HJ. Andrews Experimental Forest, in high-elevation meadows fed by snowmelt, and among flowering shrubs on the Oregon coast. Each place faces a threat—from logging to loss of snow from human-caused climate change and from herbicide spraying.

(Above photo of Rufous Hummingbird ©Jim Luvaudais— spectacular, right? Thank you Jim for permission to use this photo in my Feathered Forest presentations and related posts—and yes this bird appears in the book.).

With every uplift of birds comes the down of hard news to bear. Maybe there’s another way to think about that. Flapping flight requires an upstroke and a downstroke.

Enter the silver lining. In this time of terrible threats to our wild forests at a scale and with an aggression I’ve never seen before, there is a coming together of all who love the wilds. It’s rough, but we are starting to see wins for the environment—from Senator Jeff Merkley’s leadership with Senator Lisa Murkowski to stop the dismantling of ocean monitoring systems to a win for the continued protection of the Grand Staircase -Escalante National Monument.

Together, we are the flapping flight of birds. Like a chevron of wild geese in a V, we take turns at the front, give others relief in our draft, and are stronger when we are allied.

Turning to the songbirds in our yard, I see something else to lend us resilience in hard times. When parents are raising their young, their persistence is unflagging from dawn ‘til dusk. Watching the chickadees flying back and forth to feed their nestlings in our new nest box this year, I could easily believe the statistic from Doug Tallamy that it takes 6,000 to 9,000 caterpillars to raise a brood of five chickadees.

(Above: Mountain Chickadee ©Jim Luvaudais)

Okay, it’s a bit exhausting to fathom that level of sustained parenting. When I witness birds in nesting season, I do find myself wanting to step up more for what I love. If we all did that just a little bit every day, we’d make a real ruckus for change! For encouragement, read this post: “A Hundred Calls is All it Takes,” from Will Pattiz of More than Just Parks.

This week of changed plans is giving me the gift of rootedness here, of observing the comings and goings of birds along with Douglas squirrels, native gray squirrels, pine chipmunks, sagebrush lizards, blue-tailed skinks, and so many native bees, wasps, beetles, butterflies, moths, and other closeby denizens of a shaggy shelter of our yard.

Time to go make my Five Calls for the wilds ( see 5calls—it’s so easy!). Time for a Thoreau style saunter in the back woods with our dog Pepper. Time to embrace the moment. Shake out my wings. Time for self-care like a bird preening feathers.

It’s also time to riffle through the pages of my actual hardcover book! Yes—on the afternoon of my disappointment—a most welcome package arrived from Chelsea Green Publishing—my advanced copy of Feathered Forest: Aloft with Birds in Ancient Trees. Now there’s an uplift!

Here’s to you— my readers. May you find the uplift of birds today. Thanks for subscribing and sharing with others. And please comment. Where are you finding uplift?

(Note— it’s pre-order time for my book. Pre-orders help my sales as the release date approaches on September 8th. You can order from your favorite bookstore or choose from links here: PREORDERS. Thank you!