I guess I should’t be surprised when I see the 8 a.m. start time for Saturday’s bird watch. After all, the “early bird” really does…well, you know the rest.
More of a night owl myself, I cringe as I set my alarms for 6:15, 6:30 and 6:45 a.m. — just in case. Saturday morning arrives with me slightly grumpy, but I look forward to my trek around Fort DeSoto with the Audubon Society of St. Pete.
The aroma of French Roast wafts up to me as I descend the stairway, eyes crusty and brain full of cobwebs. I pull two oversized mugs from the cabinet and lazily pour two cups, grateful I stuck to two Beach Blonde Ales at happy hour yesterday. It’s still pretty dark out and though the bird bath water outside my kitchen doors remains still, I can hear the first chirps of a cardinal or two, notes gravelly as they wake up along with the rest of the world.
Once we’ve downed our first dose of caffeine, my wife Steph and I head south towards Fort DeSoto for our first local bird-watching experience. I have only “birded” once before, during a study abroad environmental class I took in Belize. It was such a wonderful experience I took it back home to the States with me, and have been obsessed with birds ever since. Steph mostly humored me at first, laughing as I added to our growing collection of bird feeders and bird baths. More recently, though, I have caught her reaching for her camera and lenses most Sunday mornings on our porch, inspired each time the neighborhood hawks make an appearance.
Fort DeSoto is one of my favorite places in St. Pete. I grew up camping here and still love to do so. Their dog-friendly beach is one of my Labrador retriever Tucker’s top places to spend an afternoon, and I love to go for a swim, bike and/or run session in preparation for one of the upcoming triathlons hosted at the Fort. Any swim in surrounding waters guarantees dozens of sand dollars underfoot and several manatee sightings.
The large group of local Audubon Society members is unmistakable in their khaki zip-off pants, wide-brim hats and oversized binoculars — some with camouflage straps. The giant camera lenses these people carry are no joke. Steph and I are the youngest ones here by a few decades.
After a brief introduction, our leader Judi doles out hugs all around. “If we don’t give hugs, we won’t see birds,” she chimes in her singsong voice.
We are only a few minutes into our tour when it hits me: These are my people. Slightly eccentric, maybe a little bit nerdy, unapologetically obsessed with birds. When I spot an osprey and get giddy, nobody here laughs at me — on the contrary, they actually get excited along with me. Judi has been birding for over 30 years, and is more than happy to answer all of my questions. I learn the names of a few new (to me) birds: European starlings are speckled with yellow beaks, red-bellied woodpeckers can stick their tongues out two inches past their faces.
Our group weaves into and out of the various trails scattered around Fort DeSoto. Judi shares her wealth of knowledge and even gives tips to us newbies. If I want to attract more birds to my bird bath, all I need to do is get the water to move a bit. Hanging a gallon jug of water with a hole poked in the bottom just a few feet above a bird bath is one simple and inexpensive way to bring more birds. If I want to attract owls to my yard, I can gather some oak leaves and microwave them for 30 seconds (this kills any bugs that may be in the leaves). Once the leaves have been microwaved, I can scatter them in a wooden bird house and hang it from a tree.
The tour goes on for close to three hours. I have a blast nerding out and am excited to have found a group of people who are even more obsessed with birding than me. This morning is a reminder that no matter how weird you think some of your interests are, there are always others ready to celebrate them with you.
Especially in St. Pete.
This article appears in Apr 12-19, 2018.