Hearing Is Believing

Some birds are only active at night like owls and goatsuckers (yes, that actually is the family name of whip-poor-wills and the like). This is not a rule written in stone since it is certainly possible to see an owl roosting in the daylight, but some birds just require late night excursions if they are going to make your list. That explains why I was at Jake’s Landing, a marsh in New Jersey, at midnight. I was there in search of a Black Rail, a tiny, secretive bird that is vocal almost exclusively at night. I had the marsh to myself that night, even though other World Series of Birding teams had had their scouts out there earlier. I discovered later, to my chagrin, that those scouts had heard Black Rails. I had no luck with that species, but this turned out to be my lucky night.

Literally in the still of the night, I was able to hear all the bird song around me. There were Clapper Rails, Marsh Wrens and even Seaside Sparrows calling and singing. Then I heard a song I had never heard before. Chip, chip, chip, churrrrr. It took a moment or two to recognize what I was hearing. I was pretty sure that the live version I was hearing matched a song I had on the CD in my car. So I played the CD and sure enough, I was listening to a Sedge Wren! I had never seen a Sedge Wren before…technically I still have never seen a Sedge Wren. There was no way that I was going to see this small bird hidden in the sedge in the dark, so I had no choice but to report it and list it as an audible. I have long since given up requiring visual confirmation before life listing a bird, but since this was going to be a bird worth chasing for World Series teams I was a bit concerned about being believed.

As I shared this report in the following days, not one person doubted me, at least not to my face. The bird was probably a migrant that moved on the next day since no one ever reported it again. The record breaking cumulative total of species seen by all teams during that Saturday’s World Series did not include Sedge Wren. I was the lone witness to this bird’s brief appearance. I’m not sure what I would have done if some didn’t believe me. I’m not sure that there was anything I could have done. Isn’t that the same problem we have when we witness to our faith? Your experience with God is very personal and nearly impossible to describe to another, particularly someone who has never had a similar experience. On top of that, our still-speaking God is full of surprises for us, giving us new experiences as often as we are willing to accept them. So how are we to spread this good news? I think the other birders believed me because they could see my dedication and conviction. That my story was only a little abnormal certainly helped. To many people we encounter the story of a transformative, liberating God active in the world and in our lives today is going to sound pretty far-fetched. I hope that you are able to demonstrate your conviction and dedication through your living. This way, your words will be backed up by the actions others can see, and of course, seeing is believing.