Hello blog,
It's me again, your old friend, the author of this blog! Guess what I did? I went birding.
South Sound Birding Alliance had a Mason County birding event today and I showed up half an hour early because I wanted to look at birds more. Got a look at some Harlequin Ducks through somebody's scope, and took some good (for me) pics of some Killdeer. It was a delight talking to other birders. It felt a little bit like I've been speaking a language other people don't quite understand and then stumbled into a country where it's how everyone talks. I got to bird with some delightful people, many of whom I may not have had anything at all in common with if it weren't for birding.
This Double Crested Cormorant was really posing for us
It makes me think of this one time my wife and I were at Theler Wetlands birding when some guys walked up and started talking to us about birding. And I don't like to stereotype, but let me just say I would not have expected these men to have been hanging out with a lot of trans women, if you get my drift? Rural guys. The kind of guys I went to high school with in southern Indiana, whose favorite word was fag. Not even to just call gay people, but like "This pen is a fag, it doesn't work." Like many types of people, some rural guys are great, some less so, but I'll just say it's a genre of fellow I tend to avoid rather than engage for my own safety sometimes. Anyway, these men were chatting to me and my wife, who for the record, we are two heavily tattooed trans women (including a not small amount of face tattoos) and just like getting excited about the kingfisher and the bald eagles and whatnot, you know? It was lovely. I love being able to just talk shop about something with a new person and we're all enjoying ourselves and none of that other stuff even comes into it.
Anyway, that kind of social magic of birding broke down barriers in the group and it just felt mostly pretty comfortable. Some people use alcohol to be more social, I use diving ducks. That said, I definitely did feel some distance that I think I often feel in social situations with people I don't know. Being poor kinda means you come in with secondhand gear, shit you got off craigslist for the cheapest you could find just to be able to have a pair of okay binoculars, just to have a camera with any kind of zoom at all, etc. A lot of folks were there with binoculars and scopes worth more than my car's trade-in value, you know? And I'm not in the worst shape money-wise (I know many who are way worse off) but I live in a trailer and we're a single-income house and my salary and position are considered "entry-level" even though I'm 41, you know? I can't drop hundreds of dollars on expensive pelagic trips or thousands on equipment or travel all over the world. I can't afford a mechanic when my car breaks, and our house smells a little bit like shit whenever someone takes a shower because some dumbass decided to put it on top of the septic tank. It's just a little alienating at times in various settings--including frequently with people I meet through my work--but I try to just push past it.
Killdeer wouldn't give me a profile shot, only head-on and butt-first.
For me a large part of the appeal of birding is how cheap it is. I've got my craigslist binos and my ebay camera and my discover pass and I can entertain myself every weekend and every day off I have without paying another dime. I can't afford to eat at restaurants and I have to save up to go shopping, but one thing I can do is I can go to a park. It's a beautiful thing. And maybe for other people that's not necessarily as much a part of the appeal, or not as central to it. It's hard to have hobbies when you're poor sometimes. But maybe the social magic of birding can bridge a few class differences too? You never know, I guess.