Birdwatching During Genocide

“All is well as long as we keep spinning,

here and now, dancing behind a wall.

And the old songs and laugher within

are forgiven, always, and never been true.”

-Thom Yorke, “Suspirium”

American Goldfinches, still donning summer yellow on their backs, burst from the bottom-brush, jettisoning themselves into higher boughs as we approached. There were three of us, stock-still in the chill wind, binoculars to our eyes. I am still green, still learning to navigate with my binoculars the same landscape that I saw with my eyes just a second ago. Binoculars I stole from my father over 20 years ago. We listened for birds despite the clatter and chatter of dozens of European Starlings dotting the bare canopy, lifting their wings, their silhouettes like musical notes. They move through the boughs, one part representing a whole or vice-versa, like synecdoche, like detritus of war.

And then it hit me, as it does a dozen times a day, right in my gut and chest. Innocent humans are being maliciously murdered by the thousands across the world from me. And I’m looking at birds. I woke up this morning to kisses from two spoiled dogs. My husband is squared away and safe in his home office, pissed about office politics, but safe from bombs and the type of injustice that could kill him. The past two months at work, little children have been murdered as my coworkers and I argued about Christmas music. For every NFL touchdown the past two months, about 200 people have been murdered. Nothing stops. The waltz goes on.

Today was my first birding walk with the Juniata Valley chapter of the Audubon Society that I recently joined. I introduced myself to the two men who showed up, telling them that I don’t have a lot to bring to the table but enthusiasm and a desire to learn because I love birds. In the birding world, you don’t need to have a lot of knowledge to be a birder. But it helps. Birding is a practice in devotion. Much like how I don’t have a lot of knowledge about the war across the world, my heart still hurts, because simply put, it’s humans being atrocious to one another. And humans will always be atrocious to one another. I am devoted to loving and caring for other humans. My birding cohorts, George and Connor, warmly welcomed me.

Not as practiced as my cohorts, my attention sometimes wavered to the ground. Walnut husks, wild onion, fungi, and scat caught my attention. I lowered to my haunches to investigate as my cohorts’ eyes scanned the sky. Honing in on a particular polypore, I allowed my mind to ask for forgiveness for having the luxury of wondering what type of polypore it was. Forgive me as I was able to use a phone, not to ask for help to save my life, but to identify a fungus that I would eventually abandon.

Sarah…why did you post that video? That was so sad. Who wants to see that? my mother had asked me weeks ago. I had posted a reel on social media showing devastation to, violence toward, and injury of little children in Gaza. My mother’s voice was the voice of millions of people, maybe more. Because people need to see it, I said, more out of disappointment, but maybe I am wrong. People don’t need to see things to know things. How would there be a God? Growing up, I often wondered what more America could have done during the Holocaust. And although I’m aware that horrid things are always happening to humans—and that a lot of it is not mentioned in the media at all—I never knew that I’d live through another instance of America standing by during the eradication of humans just based on…what? Thought? Race? Geography? Commerce?

There’s a running joke in the birding world that Arab poet Naomi Shihab Nye, whose father was Palestinian, wrote about in a poem called Lying While Birding.

Yes Yes

I see it

so they won’t keep telling you

where it is.

People will tell you yes, yes, they see it.

Through my ancient binoculars, I was able to detect American Robins and European Starlings without issue, mostly due to their abundance. There were times when Connor handed me his binoculars and told me where to focus. Do you see it? he asked, when directing my gaze toward a White-breasted Nuthatch. And although I could see more clearly through his fancier binoculars, I chose not to follow the advice of the poem. I was honest and told him No, I just need to practice looking. A common frustration with birding is that on overcast or even bright days, birds are merely silhouettes. A bird on a bough this time of year could easily look like a leaf still holding on. That’s why learning environment, shape, flight, songs, and movements are important.

At long last, though, through my father’s binoculars, I saw a Downy Woodpecker clinging to the side of a dead tree. I even saw its bright red crown. I was mesmerized, watching it dip its head into a hollow in the tree, seemingly snacking on something inside the tree. Perhaps there was a cache of food in there. One thing I want for my future in birding is to not just catch them all like some kind of game of Pokémon Go with present-day dinosaurs. I want for my actions to go beyond labeling and listing. I want to understand and appreciate. I want for something in me to grow feathers. I want for something in me to grow razor-sharp talons.

My birding cohorts took another ten steps forward as I continued my practiced gaze on the little black and white bird with its red crown. It does what it will to survive, regardless of war, inflation, and genocide. Very easy symbols for freedom, it is sometimes easy for a layperson to forget that birds navigate a life of savage, unregretted violence. They navigate laws of nature and of opportunism. They react in fear. Birdsong is not indicative of cheeriness, but of warning, alarm, and attraction.

About a week ago as I was lounging on the couch with my husband, I told him that if I were a cartoonist, I’d write a comic about Human Calls, depicting humans like birds, but standing outside in the world, calling out common human phrases.

Like, What-the-Hell! What-the-Hell!

Or, Oh-My-God! Oh-My-God!

Or, Thoughts-and-Prayers! Thoughts-and-Prayers!

Or, Kill'em-all! Kill'em-all!

Or, There’s-a-Bomb! There’s-a-Bomb!

Or even, What-Can-I-Do? What-Can-I-Do?

Contact your representative.