Birds and Trees 2

I grew up in Barcelona, a city. We had one type of bird. Coloms (pigeons). We had one type of tree. Plataners (London Plane).

As a kid, I remember feeding pigeons. We would buy bird food from a stand in front of the Sagrada Familia. They would come in tubular transparent bags. A little more than a handful of small black balls. You would put some on your hand and extend it. Pigeons would surround you and eat from your hand.

At some point, pigeons became a public health concern. Suddenly, they were portrayed as rats with wings, spreading diseases. There was also shit everywhere. The city needed to control the population. You were no longer allowed to feed them. Pigeons went from an entertainment activity to a nuisance.

Trees were also messy. Leaves and seed balls. City cleaners with reflective clothes. The sound of the brooms as they swept the streets. A never-ending task. Seed balls would dissolve and pollen would spread everywhere. Causing allergic reactions in some people. Trees were a useless hassle too.

I don’t think I ever put much more thought into birds or trees. Saw pines on a school trip. Flamingos at Delta de l'Ebre. Some Spanish literature books mentioned golondrinas (swallows) and cigüeñas (storks). But I couldn't care less about those names. The categorization was uninteresting. Irrelevant. Meaningless. There were just trees and birds. No need to call them anything else.

When I met Brian, I would make fun of him for being an amateur birder. He knew all the names. He would bring binoculars to our hikes to spot birds. He had books. He would identify them. I didn’t understand why he cared. To me, they were just birds. Maybe, a hobby for retired people. What was so interesting about staring at them?

I took him to Els Aiguamolls de l'Empordà and Delta de l'Ebre. I enjoyed the scenery. I didn’t get the birds. I became impatient just staring at them for so long. So, I would join for a couple of hours. Leave him there to enjoy at his own pace for a couple of days.

At our wedding, the officiant mispronounced bird. Instead, said Brian was into bear watching. Our attendants were confused. I thought it was hilarious. Memorable.

This year something changed. Walking around my new neighborhood, I started noticing. Different types of trees. Different types of birds. There weren’t just birds or trees. They were very distinctive. Their names suddenly felt very important. I had this urge to know them by name. To be able to identify them.

Redbud, Sycamore, Mexican Plum, Mexican Buckeye, Live Oak, Red Oak, Mountain Laurel, Cherry Laurel, Juniper, Cedar Elm, Loquat, Magnolia, Yew, Arizona Cypress, Olive tree.

Hummingbird, Mockingbird, Goldfinch, Chickadee, Kinglet, Wren, Parakeet, Woodpecker, Titmouse, Waxwing, Cardinal, Blue Jay, Egret, Sparrow, Red-shouldered Hawk, Barred Owl, Turkey Vulture, Black Vulture.

I lived in Austin for 5 years and I had never noticed them. Not even the distinctive purple of the Texas Redbud. Or the smell of the Mexican Plum. The bright yellow chest of the Goldfinches. Or the funny crest of a Tufted Titmouse.

I even put up a bird feeder in my backyard. Now, I’m excited to have visitors. To hear them singing when I wake up. To identify them by their sound. To watch them from the kitchen, while I make breakfast.

I can’t help myself but to name the tree or the bird as I spot one. Maybe a way to acknowledge they exist in their distinctive way. They’ve always had. I just wasn’t ready to really see them.

What changed?

Is it age? A year of social isolation? My mom’s death? Owning a house? Too much time with Brian?

I don’t know.

I just know I can’t unsee them now. And that I want to learn more.