Lately the algorithm has been feeding me memes about aging and birdwatching. You know, the ones that say, “When you reach that age when you realize you enjoy birdwatching,” or “One day you’re young and fun. The next day you’re taking videos of the birds at your bird feeder.” Or my personal favourite, “As you age, it’s ridiculous how fast bird watching creeps up on you. You spend your whole life being indifferent to birds, and then one day you’re like, Damn, is that a yellow-rumped warbler?”
Yep, birdwatching and aging go hand in hand. I even did an entire blog about crows, for Pete’s sake!
I must admit, I’ve been interested in birds for a while. It started when I was just a young’un, in my forties. I proudly sport a hummingbird tattoo on my arm. I appreciate the “ordinary” creatures, like sparrows, wrens, chickadees, blue jays, crows, and robins. Spotting a robin is an exciting thing in my neck of the woods, as it means spring is here. I also get excited when we travel somewhere, near or far, and I can spot some new-to-me feathered friends. The only bird I don’t really respect is the magpie. Many years ago, a small flock trapped my cat underneath a car. I had to go out and yell. I threw stones (not at them but close) and rescued my cat. I’ve never forgiven them for that.
Birdwatching, although it is not new, seems to be gaining in popularity. It is a wonderful way to get outdoors and enjoy nature. There’s the social aspect, as it is often done in groups, and several communities have birdwatching clubs that arrange outings. It’s a low-key activity. It doesn’t need much physical exertion unless you’re climbing trees or rocks to search for the elusive Cliff Swallow.
Did you know that a person who enjoys birdwatching is called a twitcher or birder? Birder makes sense, as birdwatching is sometimes referred to as birding. This is not to be confused with the scientific study of birds, which is ornithology. And people who study birds as a profession are ornithologists. That’s a mouthful! I prefer twitcher.
“So, what is your favourite thing to do on the weekend? Oh, I’m a twitcher.” Right. I couldn’t leave this one alone. The name twitcher originated in the UK in the 1950s and 1960s. During this time, birders often traveled long distances to see a rare bird. The term “twitcher” comes from the nervous excitement these enthusiasts felt when chasing a rare bird sighting. People would twitch with anticipation. It was somewhat of a competition to see who could check the most birds on their list. Over the years, birding started spreading and showed its non-competitive side. Nowadays, most people call themselves a birdwatcher or a birder. The “sport” can be done anywhere. You can set up bird feeders in your backyard and notice them on a walk or hike. Or you can look up different birds and travel as the twitchers once did to check them off your list.
I love to sit out on the deck and listen to the choir of birds in the backyard. We are fortunate to have lots of trees. Our indoor cats can’t instill much fear into our feathered friends. So, there is a good variety of chirps, tweets, and calls to listen to. There are, as I mentioned earlier, several types of sparrows, chickadees, and wrens around. Often a blue jay enters the yard, screeching its way to the peanut holder. With its vibrant blue, black, and white plumage, it really stands out among the trees. The yellow warbler always travels in a pair. These bright yellow birds quickly dart in and out, getting lost in the green foliage. We have grackles who like to show off their raspy, off-key voice. In late summer the trees will echo with tssh-schleek, tssh-schleek. It’s like running a nail down a chalkboard—remember that? And of course we have the beautiful Downy Woodpecker. The male of this species, characterized by a red patch on its neck, has caused some issues at our house. A few years ago, we had one that would come and hammer on the front of our house. I remember having Zoom meetings during Covid and people asking me what the noise was. “Ah, just my friendly neighbourhood woodpecker.” But then it started hammering on my daughter’s window, and we had to chase it away. This behaviour occurred on and off for a couple of years. Recently we noticed a dent in the fascia. Since that protects us from the weather (to a point), we called someone to fix it. And guess what he found? A wasp nest! Yep, they had moved right in where the woodpecker had created a nice little groove, perfect to start a home. Suffice to say, it is no longer a problem.
We also see Northern Flickers, Purple Martins, American Goldfinches, and the occasional Cedar Waxwing in our yard. Of course, other birds people see locally will vary, depending on the trees in their neighbourhood.
The city in which I live, Saskatoon, is a feeding spot for a large flock of pelicans. In the spring, about 5000 pairs of pelicans end up just northwest of the city and breed at Redberry Lake Biosphere. But they come to the Saskatoon weir for fresh food. I must question their taste, as I’m sure the fish in that part of the North Saskatchewan River is not the greatest! We even have a contest to see who can guess their arrival. In 2025, the pelicans arrived April 9th at about 10:15 pm. Their arrival is a sure sign of spring, just like the robin.
Another interesting bird that visits here is the Turkey Vulture. Now I’ve not yet seen this bird, but a friend of mine has. Several of them roost in a tree near her house, and she often watches them fly in at night. My husband and I have gone several times over the last three years. We always have high hopes. To date, we have not seen them.
Turkey vultures are not common in cities. They prefer to nest in abandoned buildings out on the prairie. These birds were almost nonexistent for about a hundred years. Then, they started coming back when farms began to be abandoned. With a wingspan of up to six feet, I suspect they can live anywhere they want! According to the bluejay journal, there were three turkey vulture pairs who bred in 2002 and raised five babies. Wow! The ones here may be descendants. I just read an article that nicknames the turkey vulture “nature’s avian garbage men” because they feed off of roadkill and other dead creatures, like deceased cattle. Ugh. I wonder where the ones living in our city’s tree have traveled during the day.
We will keep cruising the alleys and side streets trying to catch a glimpse of these soaring trash cans. For now, we have birdseed and bells on the kitchen counter, right beside the chia seeds and hemp hearts. Time to twitch!
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