How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Birds

You know what they say: You never forget your first one. 

Nicole and I first got into the process of bird identification, or "birding" about three years ago. We were in Wickham Park in Manchester when I couldn't help but notice a very unusual blackbird. He had something different about him: Little striped accents adorned his coat by his shoulders when he perched. When he spread his wings to fly, the stripes revealed themselves to be red dots, akin to decorations on a World War II fighter plane.

"What is that?" I asked. 

"It's a red-winged blackbird," said Nicole casually. It was the first "exotic" bird that she had ever committed to memory, way back when she was in elementary school.

Since then, we've purchased a bird identification book. Along with our new SLR camera, we've really had some fun, and birding is a new hobby of ours. Often, the birds do not cooperate when they see Nicole or me with a camera. However, on a recent trip to Albany, one of our red-winged friends was kind enough to put on a show for me.

With his brilliant coloring on full display, aerodynamics that would make Lockheed-Martin jealous, and amazing grace that has fascinated mankind for centuries, I felt very lucky.

Goodbye!