Lazuli Bunting: My Search for Meaning. And Birds

by Adam Cayton-Holland

Of all the many reasons people love to birdwatch, I fear mine may be the worst. Sure, you have your life-listers, your weekend enthusiasts and backyard birdfeeder heroes; I have thoughts and theories on all of them. As does every birder. We are a surprisingly opinionated group. But regardless of what you think about the various species of birder, I might be the most insufferable.

Because I’m looking for meaning.

Not in every bird I come across. A pack of bushtits on my morning dog walk doesn’t turn me into a philosopher. Sometimes a bird is just a bird is just a bird. I know that. But every avid birder knows the special sightings. The ones that loom large in your archive. The ones you can recall in vivid detail—the temperature, the season, the actual feel of that place in time—no matter how many years go by.

Which I so appreciate. I don’t get those clear snapshots much anymore. I used to. I used to be the guy with the impressive memory, the writer who could remember every detail. No more…