Originally posted here. Used, of course, with the author's permission.
The MCAT and I spent much of the recent holiday weekend doing something we had not done for a couple of years: birding. We were in extreme south central Oregon. Here, and here.
The entire experience was beautiful. The weather, the setting, the lack of other humans, and the birds (and the muskrat, the enormous frog, a couple of deer, and the pronghorn antelope). It was worth a few bug bites (we sprayed ourselves, our clothes, our hats, and one determined bug managed to bite me on the rear THROUGH my blue jeans, between the pocket with the handkerchief and the center seam). There were some rock star birds, two of which were new to us. The Long-billed Curlew and the White-faced Ibis. Others we had seen before but never so close were the American Avocet, the Black-necked Stilt, the Black-crowned Night Heron, the American White Pelican, and the Sandhill Crane. In all we saw about 30 different birds.
My experience as a birder tells me that there are three ways to do it. With binoculars, with a spotting scope, and by ear. The spotting scope is a great way to see things in great detail and without your bodily functions making you move (your heatbeat! What did you think I meant?). You can get some incredibly good looks at birds from much farther away than you can with even very powerful binoculars. The downside is that someone (usually the biggest person in the group, usually me) has to carry the scope. [Coyote Banjo is the only person I know who might occasionally relieve me on scope portage. But that's another story for another time. ]
Birding by ear is very challenging but also very rewarding. You either need to go out with someone who knows the bird calls in a specific area, or you buy recordings of them, listen at home, and then take your chances in the wild (or the city park; birds seem to be everywhere). I have put a few discs of bird songs on my MP3 player and used it for confirmation when on a group outing.
What most people do is use binoculars. But unless you live in a place where lots of different birds come into your backyard and are used to people, you won't see much up close.
That brings me to the style of birding that MCAT and I do. We like to stalk the birds in their environment. This takes as much, if not more, patience than learning the birds by ear. You can walk into the territory to a certain point and then the avian alarm system kicks in. At a certain point the sounds change from songs to alarms, and there is no mistaking the difference. How do you bypass this incredible alarm? Patience. We learned, through a field course at the North Cascades Institute, how to work around this warning system, and even use it to your advantage.
The key concept here is PROCESS (yes, we're getting to the process of practicing). First, don't look directly at the birds and smile, even if they are miles high in a tree in plain sight. The second you show teeth, you become a predator who wants to eat them. Smile at those little guys and they become invisible. No, experience shows that if you adapt a meditative style of walking and breathing, and have no sense of urgency about you, you can stand in the middle of a clearing in broad daylight, slow your breathing down, and just stand there for a couple of minutes, and the birds will pick up on your non-predator energy and go about their business, which is all about three things: mating, eating, and when the season is right, feeding their young. We learned the "fox walk," which, when done properly, makes tai chi seem to go at light speed. You can get pretty close to birds perched on a bush not more than 7 feet tall if you are prepared to go at a silent speed of about 10 steps in 3 minutes. The idea is to move so slowly and without making eye contact with the birds, you should be able to move continuously and almost imperceptibly towards the birds. No sudden movements. And when you get to where you want to be, you have to wait and not move for another minute or so before you can put up your field glasses.
MCAT and I love doing it this way. You get really close to the birds, you can really study them, imprint their images on your brain, and just enjoy the world.
The birds at the Summer Lake National Wildlife Refuge were wiley and skittish, especially the ducks. Nothing like getting shot at in the winter to make you wary of all humans who enter your turf. And I had lost my stalking chops. Those darn blackbird sentries! They make a ton of noise and you know they are there but their habitat is such that you have to really know where to look to see them. I had a good look at the aforementioned Ibis, and thought I could improve my view with just two long steps. But I moved too quickly after the first step and the sounds changed from nice blackbird songs to "CHIRP!" and the Ibis family took to the air, along with a few blackbirds. One upside to this was that it roused the Night Heron from its slumber (they typically are active at night, not in broad daylight), and its slow ascent gave us a good look. And, after I accidently vacated the premises, I just stayed in that spot and waited. Sure enough, the Long-billed Curlew couple came by after a short time and went about their business and I got a great look at them.
Patience, and a willingness to keep at something without creating any tension in your body is how to make this a successful venture.
Kind of sounds a lot like practicing a musical instrument. Except the practicing of an instrument does not come with a spotting scope option. You have to get out in the field and stalk those techniques.
[It was incredibly validating to see/hear Dirk Powell discuss the process of practicing in his "Learn to play the Cajun accordion" video that I have. He, too, says that no one wants to practice certain exercises but that you won't get anywhere if you don't. He even acknowledges that it is not fun, but, with less time than you think, you'll be on your way to mastering Jolie Blonde. And it turns out that the 10-button, single row accordion is by far the most difficult instrument I've ever tried to play. Quite humbling, actually.]
How are you going to be able to maintain your chops while playing, for example, BWV 1067? You have to play every note in every movement for 20 minutes. Yes, there are three bars of rest in the Ouverture, but at the proper tempo you may use those not as "rests" but as an opportunity to tank up on air to avoid flute player's hypoxia. Or the infamous BWV 1013, where in the first movement there are NO rests and only 5 notes over two pages that are not 16th-notes ? Or the unaccompanied sonata in a-minor by CPE Bach? You won't be able to execute those huge leaps in the first movement in what, for him, constitutes a melody, if you haven't put the time in (your meditative time) developing your breathing, blowing, and embouchure.
You have to go through the process of practicing, especially your long tones, then your body mechanics, and, as in the martial arts, once you have learned how to stand, breathe, etc., you'll be able to learn the really fun and interesting stuff.
This works for amateurs as well as professionals. The only difference is how much more time the professionals spend on the same few techniques.
I came up with the 20-minute workout for flute and recorder because I know that some of the required practice is less-than-exciting. But you don't need to devote hours out of your day to build your techniques. You just need to stalk them slowly, quietly, and with patience.
It is very relaxing and rewarding. And without any bugs.
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