Saved by Birding

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orking heavily in suicide prevention, I had become a doormat to my job and everyone else. The demands only increased and expectations soared because everyone knew, or thought they knew, I could get the job done. After getting off a Teams meeting one afternoon that ended in frustration, I was pretty much ready to toss my laptop out the window and just be done with everything. In mid-fantasy of chucking the annoying device, a bright red creature caught my eye.

Outside my home office window, a luminous Northern Cardinal was perched on a branch of the magnolia tree in my backyard. Its head was cocked to the side as if it were looking at me the entire time of my laptop-tossing contemplation. Then it suddenly flew away. In that moment, the freshness of the green leaves partnered with the cardinal’s striking red color just did something for me. I wanted more of these moments, even if they were mere seconds, because it distracted me from the demands of life and my new self-crowned doormat label.

The infamous COVID-19 lockdown of 2020 brought on a surge of mental disparities in homes—suicide, drug use, and domestic abuse, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. I dealt with a lot of these scenarios firsthand: losing colleagues, comforting widows, and helping those who were stunned and left behind to cope. The demand was constant, helping others, encouraging others, and educating and scrambling to come up with the most preventative methods, especially for first responders who were dealing with their own daily burdens. Little did I realize at the time that my own battles with depression over the years helped to prepare me for this difficult time, knowing what to say, helping others the way I knew was soothing for me. But, still, I was neglecting my own self-care in the process. I was constantly nourishing with no replenishment.

 

I Am Not Alone

While mental illness was gaining its ugly grip on individuals, birdwatching as I knew it, also known as birding or more intimately backyard birding, soared. A 2022 survey revealed that there were 96 million people who considered themselves “birders.” Within that same group, 91 million were specifically categorized as “backyard birders,” which is what I consider myself. Over these past few years, I’ve embraced the simplicity and joy of just stepping out my back door, looking forward to seeing how quickly the Blue Jays will devour the shelled peanuts I leave out for them.

I have to admit, when I first started, I thought birdwatching was for older age groups, especially retired folks. I found that to be incorrect. Birders come in all shapes, sizes, and ages. A good number of birders are teens. The most recent National Survey of Fishing, Hunting, and Wildlife-Associated Recreation confirmed that the COVID-19 outbreak was connected to a significant increase in birdwatching. Playing a big role in this was the development of birding apps that identify the sights and sounds of the busy visitors in one’s yard. For example, the Merlin Bird ID app, which I use, saw a huge jump from 300,000 users in Mar. 2020 to more than one million in May 2023.

 

The Great Burnout

The issues being addressed by my colleagues and myself were complex and varied, as numerous as the number of people affected: fear of the unknown during the pandemic, increased battles with loneliness, family violence, fear of getting sick, and drug use—all wrapped up in the thorny blanket of COVID-19 deaths that were being reported constantly. The morning routines I developed with the birds unconsciously became a mandate of my own: I had to hear the chanting song of a Carolina Wren compete with others for the title of Best Melody: the whistles of the cardinal, the twittering of the goldfinch, the sweet whistles of the sparrow. The sneak peaks outside my office window during break times were a must. Had the jays gone through all the peanuts put out that morning (the answer was usually “yes”)? Will the grosbeak make another rare appearance at the feeders? Shifting my full concern and attention to these episodes in nature were small doses of healing in between the calls of distress, unrealistic demands, and endless delivery of suicide prevention measures that had taken over my life. Many mental health professionals not only experienced an increased workload during this time, but almost half reported feeling completely burned out by the end of 2022, according to the American Psychological Association. Post-pandemic stress has contributed to an increased risk of burnout, according to the National Library of Medicine. Secondary traumatic stress and compassion fatigue are other effects we may have to worry about as professionals in the mental health care field.

The author’s careful studies of House Finches nesting in a Christmas wreath provided hours of much-needed happiness during the darkest days of the pandemic. Photos by © Musu Bangura.

 

Bird Plunge Leads to Healthier Thoughts

It seems so simple: putting out birdseed for the radiant cardinals and others coming through my yard. But I was becoming deeply attuned to animal behavior. One morning, I decided to up my birder game after seeing a showdown between a rambunctious squirrel and an equally feisty Blue Jay. As usual, I left peanuts on top of an old brick fire pit in my backyard. One of the Blue Jays came, snatched a peanut, and decided to bury it near the magnolia tree where the cardinal had sparked a new outlook on life for me. Little did the jay know that a squirrel was nearby, watching its every move. The jay made one last pat in the dirt with its little black feet, convinced that the peanut was in a safe place for future snacking, and flew off. Seconds later, the squirrel dug up the peanut and chomped away. The jay spotted this and quickly returned, realizing there was nothing it could do but squawk in frustration while the squirrel polished off the peanut unbothered. The squirrels were cute, but I was ready for more bird sightings: chickadees, woodpeckers, bluebirds.

A row of tall old trees beyond my backyard fence had a whole world of flying creatures I was curious to see, so I decided to research further. My first visit to my local bird-feeding store was a game changer. I was welcomed with so much warmth by the staff, a much-needed breath of fresh air from the stressed-out co-workers I vented with on a daily basis. I spent two hours in the store! In the process, I learned about the birds indigenous to my area, their habits, cravings, and preferences, and even the way their plumages change through the year. I was even more deeply hooked, ready to get a first-hand encounter of a Rose-breasted Grosbeak or Baltimore Oriole, birds I’d never seen.

I started bringing up the sightings of my new visitors in conversations with friends, family, and co-workers. A few eyebrows rose, but many people were interested in my newfound hobby and looked forward to hearing about my latest sightings. I was waking up a bit earlier during the week to hang out in the backyard before starting my workday. With my new purchases of food and feeders, I was enjoying the now-familiar cries of Blue Jays that would greet me as soon as I stepped out the door. The cardinals often came in pairs, the male sporting his bright red coat and the female attired in gorgeous brown hues. One morning, I noticed a male giving a gift of food to a female! By the time my first work meeting, presentation, or session started, I was already refreshed and encouraged. Those short morning sessions outside, hearing the songs and chippers of the feathered busybodies, had given me the head start I didn’t know I needed.

There is growing research pointing to a strong connection between being surrounded by birds and having good mental health. A study on college students, published in the Journal of Environmental Psychology in 2024, reported a strong correlation between birdwatching and well-being, showing that exposure to birds specifically contributed more than other elements of nature. I also was pleased to learn about the ABA, especially its efforts to highlight rigorous scientific research on the wellness benefits of birding. A good recent example is Holly Merker’s article in the Mar. 2024 issue of Birding.

I love nature, and I’ve always had a strong appreciation for what the Earth brings forth throughout the year. But embracing birding took things to another level. I’m tickled every time I see a nuthatch comically trot down a tree to the fresh stash of bark butter; and I’m enchanted whenever a Red-bellied Woodpecker uses its bill as a sword to fight the other birds away from the peanuts. If those sightings don’t start off my morning, they definitely happen during the break times I’ve created to get away from the computer screen or to decompress from a critical response. I become more energized and refreshed for each interaction that requires my support. I also become more centered, incorporating a bit of self-care with prayer, mindfulness, and journaling. Because of these personal experiences, I will not be surprised to see more research that reveals a significant correlation between birding and better well-being.

 

One “No” Leads to Others

As pandemic restrictions started to ease up, my fog of multitasking and self-neglect also started to clear. I had memorized a good number of wild birds that visited my feeders on a daily basis, and I was in a position to analyze my work and personal relationships with a fresh lens. There were blurred lines everywhere. One afternoon, I left one of my managers in shock after I’d given a response to one of their draining requests with assertion. I felt as territorial as a mockingbird protecting its young in the springtime. In the past, I would have given in or exceeded what was being asked of me, but, this time, the answer was “no” without thinking of possible repercussions. There were similar occurrences in the personal realm; the jig was up for users who were disguised as friends. I could decipher what I was giving but not getting in return, and I put a lot of thought into what reciprocating should look like. Some of those conversations, though difficult, were possible because I could sort thoughts and feelings with a refreshed mind. I stopped answering my phone on my days off—emergencies only.

Setting limitations and boundaries didn’t take place only at work. I cleaned up my personal life, as well. As in the workplace, a lot of demands with no real support in return had to be addressed. But it wasn’t a complete overhaul. There were those who gratifyingly loved to hear about my latest backyard visitor drama. Others would sometimes raise one eyebrow at me but still provided a listening ear and support when needed.

 

Looking Ahead

I believe I have been able to thrive in this hobby because of the ease of it. Birding is easy primarily because it’s accessible. It doesn’t matter where you live or whether you have a backyard. Birds are everywhere. If food is put out for them, birds will come and eventually get used to being around you. It took a good while before the Blue Jays hung around and comfortably gathered their peanuts in my presence. And this: As birding has become a regular part of my day-to-day routine, I’ve become more disciplined in my to-do lists, reconnected with my reading, and capable of managing my responsibilities in and out of the workplace much better.

In my renewal of thriving and having refreshed gratitude in helping others, I noticed a lot of chirpy activity at my front door one day this past spring. I went outside to find a carefully constructed nest woven into the Christmas wreath that I failed to take down after the holidays. Inside the nest were three tiny, pale-white eggs. The next day, there were four and, a couple days later, there were five. A couple of House Finches decided to make my front door their home for the breeding season. Over the course of about three weeks, the little eggs hatched, and the babies made tons of noise during feeding time. Then, one day, I peeped outside and saw the father finch on the roof, endearingly puffing up his crimson breast, wings flapping away. It was as if he and the mother, who was nearby, were trying to give quick flying lessons to the nestlings just about to fledge. The high-pitched calls of the nestlings were adorable. This happy cacophony continued for a couple more days until the area fell suddenly and strangely silent. The nest was abandoned, the baby finches gone. I could only imagine the welcome joy they would bring to the next person’s backyard they chose to make their home.