It all started when my brother, Jim, took a college ornithology class, I was nine years his junior and mostly just wanted to tag along. So I got some binoculars, figured out how to use them, and did my best to keep up. That Christmas, Jim gave me a Golden Guide and in the spring of 1977, I started my life list.
Some of my earliest and most vivid birding memories involve my parents. On a family spring break trip to Siesta Key, Florida when I was around 12 years old, I had begged my parents to make the two-hour drive to Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary after reading about it in National Geographic. I don't think my mom told my dad how far the drive was, because I recall him being not so happy after an hour of driving. Once we got there he was pretty confused. We drove two hours from a pristine beach to go to..... a swamp? I was running the boardwalk ahead of my parents when my dad called me over and quietly pointed out my very first Limpkin. "Slow down," he said, "and you might see more." It was solid birding advice that I still carry with me.
Another core memory was a trip to Pt. Pelee during fall migration when the winds shifted and a massive lift off occurred. Jim and I laid on the beach and watched massive kettles of hawks overhead. The monarch butterflies that covered the trees the day before also suddenly decided it was time to cross Lake Erie. It was epic. I've since returned to Pt. Pelee a few times, but it has never been that good.
I was never what you'd call a hardcore birder. But birds were always there. From the birdfeeder at the high school classroom where I taught English, to our family road trips where I offered my three kids $20 (and did pay despite claims otherwise) for the first Bald Eagle, to the many pictures, trinkets, and funny coffee mugs I was gifted, birds have been a constant in my life. When I retired from teaching, a few close colleagues bought me a retirement present: a bird feeder with a camera, of course.
As I begin my third year of retirement, I've decided to stop being casual about birding. In 2026 I am embarking on a birding Big Year and I have a goal to see 500 species across the lower 48 United States. My life list stands at 461 species, which means I need to find 39 birds I have never seen before. It sounds straightforward until you start planning the logistics.
This site is where I'm documenting the journey — the travel, the unexpected lifers, the cold boat rides, the generous strangers who've shown me their favorite spots, and the moments that remind me why I fell in love with birds in the first place.
Some of my earliest and most vivid birding memories involve my parents. On a family spring break trip to Siesta Key, Florida when I was around 12 years old, I had begged my parents to make the two-hour drive to Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary after reading about it in National Geographic. I don't think my mom told my dad how far the drive was, because I recall him being not so happy after an hour of driving. Once we got there he was pretty confused. We drove two hours from a pristine beach to go to..... a swamp? I was running the boardwalk ahead of my parents when my dad called me over and quietly pointed out my very first Limpkin. "Slow down," he said, "and you might see more." It was solid birding advice that I still carry with me.
Another core memory was a trip to Pt. Pelee during fall migration when the winds shifted and a massive lift off occurred. Jim and I laid on the beach and watched massive kettles of hawks overhead. The monarch butterflies that covered the trees the day before also suddenly decided it was time to cross Lake Erie. It was epic. I've since returned to Pt. Pelee a few times, but it has never been that good.
I was never what you'd call a hardcore birder. But birds were always there. From the birdfeeder at the high school classroom where I taught English, to our family road trips where I offered my three kids $20 (and did pay despite claims otherwise) for the first Bald Eagle, to the many pictures, trinkets, and funny coffee mugs I was gifted, birds have been a constant in my life. When I retired from teaching, a few close colleagues bought me a retirement present: a bird feeder with a camera, of course.
As I begin my third year of retirement, I've decided to stop being casual about birding. In 2026 I am embarking on a birding Big Year and I have a goal to see 500 species across the lower 48 United States. My life list stands at 461 species, which means I need to find 39 birds I have never seen before. It sounds straightforward until you start planning the logistics.
This site is where I'm documenting the journey — the travel, the unexpected lifers, the cold boat rides, the generous strangers who've shown me their favorite spots, and the moments that remind me why I fell in love with birds in the first place.