Habitat is one key to
making a proper identification. If you are in the middle of the
woods, it is highly unlikely that you will find Meadowlarks and
Bobolinks and in the middle of a grassland a Pileated Woodpecker or
Northern Goshawk will only be passing through. Habitat typically only
helps to focus attention on likely species, but one trick that those
who bird by ear use is to check the habitat when distinguishing
between those species whose song is just a trill. If you are at a
wetlands, it is likely a Swamp Sparrow, if you are looking at a stand
of conifers, it is likely a Pine Warbler, and if it is a suburban
lawn, it is likely a Chipping Sparrow.
When I was on
sabbatical a few years ago, one of my greatest expectations was
seeing species of birds that I had not seen before because I was
going to be traveling west to new areas and new habitats. My first
stop was Omaha, not quite west, but certainly not east, the very
epitome of Midwest. I was so excited about adding to my life list
that I took a taxi to a bird walk. When I got into the woods it
started to feel familiar, a riparian forest. I knew what to expect in
riparian forest habitat in the east, but what would I discover here?
What I quickly discovered was that from an avian perspective, I was
still in the east. I didn't add a single lifer that trip. In fact, I
had to really struggle to find a Western Meadowlark in Omaha, in part
because they are so similar to Eastern Meadowlarks, but also because
I was still not quite far enough west to be in their normal range. I
fixed that with a trip one day to the sand hills of central Nebraska,
where I started picking up some species new to me.
Later in my trek,
when I got to Arizona, the lifers started adding up. This was due in
part to the geography and in part to the habitat. I saw hummingbirds,
orioles, and woodpeckers just like I do here in the east, but they
were Magnificent Humminbirds, Scott's Orioles, and Acorn Woodpeckers.
I also saw birds that were unique to the desert habitat like Greater
Roadrunners, Cactus Wrens, and Elegant Trogons.
Knowing your place is a
vital practice if you are concerned about identification. That
applies both to predicting what you will discover around you, like
what I do when I go birding in a new location, and to
self-identification as well. Knowing yourself involves knowing your
place. Let's take a look at those two things in order. First, knowing
the world around you.
The great disorder that
plagues Western Civilization is disconnection from place. We used to
be people who understood the natural world, primarily because if we
didn't understand it, it would kill us. I'm sure I don't have to
repeat stories about children not having any idea that milk comes
from cows before it comes from the store or quote statistics about
how little time children today spend outside to convince you of the
problem. Surely you've seen it in your own experience. Personally, I
can't get enough time in nature. I find it endlessly fascinating. You
know the old expression, “a bad day birdwatching is better than a
good day at work.” OK, so maybe it is more popularly associated
with fishing, but you get my point. Even with my extensive knowledge
and familiarity with birds, there is not a birding trip when I don't
experience something new, or at least ask a question I've never asked
before. Sometimes the literal wild goose chase that I'm on has that
metaphorical impact as well, leading me to explore new things that I
hadn't previously consider. Often that is a plant, sometimes an
animal, or a sound. Frankly, I can't understand why everyone doesn't
find the natural world endlessly fascinating. Now, I understand that
I'm a bit of an odd duck here. Take for example, my total disinterest
in gardening. For many people, their yards and gardens are the ways
that they get into nature. But I have no interest in trying to bend
nature to my bidding. I would much rather be surprised by Columbine,
Trout Lily, and Lady's Slipper while I'm walking in the woods, than
to fertilize, weed, and water just so a tulip, rose, or hydrangea
will bloom right outside my door. Believe it or not, I'm also not a
fan of bird feeders. To me, feeding the birds is a bit like trying to
domesticate them. It certainly is an attempt to entice them to come
to us. I find more pleasure in going to them, experiencing them doing
whatever they choose and being themselves. But these are just tame
examples of a philosophy that can be very dangerous. In fact, it is
more theology than philosophy, and it has to do with the translation
of a single preposition in the book of Genesis.
In the first chapter of
the first book of the Bible we read that God tells humans to
subdue the earth and to have dominion over the animals. With a mandate like
that coupled with a belief that we are the crown of creation (seeing
as we are the last beings created) and a little lower than the angels
(something we told ourselves in the
Psalms) there is nothing to stop
us from doing what we want to creation. Sadly, that is precisely what
has happened. We have indeed done as we pleased with the natural
resources of the planet and when we are faced with the natural
consequences of our exploitation, we have scripture and doctrine to
fall back on to justify our behavior and continue on a destructive
path. But what if we have been reading the story wrong all along?
We read that at the end
of creating, God hands over the keys to humanity. We read that we are
to subdue the earth and have dominion over its inhabitants. Or so it
seems. Granted, the verb used to describe what we are to do to the
land is the same as the one used to describe subjecting a conquered
people to your control. And the common translation of the next verb
and preposition is to have dominion over. But that pairing
could also (perhaps more reasonably) be read as rule with. And
even if the intent is to hear that we free rein to do as we want with
all of creation, taking total control, recall that this is a story
that comes from an ancient people who surely felt subjected to the
land and the power of nature. Surely the whole idea of having
dominion over creation was only a dream, perhaps heard as a promise
from the Creator.
In our day, we have the
ability to subdue and dominate, and we have tended to do so in
extreme ways. We look at it as progress, but it has come at a very
high cost. Not only are we finding that we are quickly running out of
space and resources, but we have made disconnection from creation
seem normal. We have made the natural unnatural. We have come to the
conclusion that we are apart from nature, not a part of nature.
It is only after you
have relearned your place in the grand scheme of creation that you
can get to know your true self. As creatures, we are created to have
our place in creation, not simply literally a physical place, but
metaphorically we have our place, which is our sweet spot. We have
that thing that makes our heart sing, that which makes us feel most
fully alive. It has been said that there are two important days in
your life, the day you were born and the day you discover why you
were born. Our faith story suggests that that second day is the day
that you are born again, or born anew from above. When you experience
that day (or days, as the journey continues to unfold) you re-join
the human family in a new way. As Christians, we call this way the
Body of Christ.
As we read in
1Corinthians 12, this body, like all bodies is made up of many parts.
No body can exist as only one part, we need each other. Remember that
you are incapable of truly living, knowing your full intended life,
apart from others. I would argue that those others include the whole
of creation. But equally remember that those others, including the
whole of creation, are counting on you. And what are they counting on
you to do? They are counting on you to be you! That understanding may
come in a dramatic
Aha! moment, just don't forget that that
moment is a door that opens up new possibilities, which surely will
include more
Aha! moments as you find your place in the
living, breathing, always changing, always fascinating world that you
were born, and born anew, into.