SPRING 2022

Nate Carley

Reflections of a Bird-Watcher

The Wood Duck. Not a rare bird or one that should be particularly difficult to locate, but one that I simply couldn’t find. I decided that I wanted to see one, to experience the unparalleled majesty of the bird’s flamboyant appearance. So, I opened up an online map and began the search for the ideal habitat: water surrounded by woods. Wood Ducks nest high in the trees, yet, like all species of duck, feed primarily in aquatic environments. I located this strange type of habitat about 15 minutes from where I live and set an alarm for early the next morning.

5:00 a.m., the sun still tucked below the vast curve of the earth, my alarm forced me awake. I hopped out of bed, groggy, but excited by the prospect of encountering the elusive creature. I dressed myself, and hurriedly climbed into my car, beginning my short drive to the nearby park. When I arrived, it was empty except for me and the warning calls of the hidden birds, alerting each other of my perceived predatory presence. I began my half-mile walk to the creek, and as I neared the water’s edge the sky began to churn in the distance, spawning grey, thunderous clouds and drastically decreasing my odds of finding the bird. I reached the creek, but ten yards of thick brush stood between me and the water. I began to lose hope as the sky darkened and the birds stopped singing, but I noticed a small opening in the brush a few hundred yards down the bank. As I walked toward the window, the dark clouds opened up and spat heavy drops of water upon me, so I began to accept my fate. “I guess I can just come back tomorrow,” I thought to myself as I neared the clearing, my jacket soaked through.

I stood in the clearing at the water’s edge, and looked down the creek to my left, where nothing but the creek, greenery, and rain looked back. I turned to my right, and swimming quietly down the creek was a pair of Wood Ducks. The male led the way, its vibrant colors instantly identifiable, and the female followed close behind. I jumped up and down, letting out a small shriek of excitement, and after the birds were out of sight, began my soggy trek back to the warm sanctuary of my car.

To me, birding is calming, helping me find myself on a tough day, and also fills me with excitement, like in the case of the Wood Duck. It is meditative, walking through the thick woods serenaded by the distinct call of the majestic Pileated Woodpecker, and can be thrilling, like attempting to identify a species that is totally unfamiliar, knowing it’s one I’ve never seen before. It is beautiful, like finding a lush green tunnel through the woods, a canopy over my head and thick green walls on either side of me. But it can also be totally disappointing, like seeing a creek polluted by thousands of pieces of litter and plastic bags. Birding allows me to see the connection between myself and nature, and helps me recognize that we, humans, are not disconnected, silent observers of nature: we’re participants. As I walk through the woods, birds cry out warning calls, alerting each other of me, an apex predator. I, along with the rest of my kind, endanger their habitat, their homes. I’m just there to look, to experience the natural beauty of the world we share, but the birds don’t see me that way. That’s why I love birding, it bridges the gap between me and the natural world, and allows me to simply live in the moment for a few short hours.

Evan Bare

Summer Camp: Childhood Trauma or Best Thing Ever?

Immense dread, consternation, and isolation; those were the emotions swirling inside me like a vortex as my parents abandoned me at my first year at summer camp. Fenced in and left to fend for myself like a rabid animal, I was deserted on my own for the first time in my life. The shadowy figures of strangers around me put me on edge, and colossal monsters approached me introducing themselves as my “counselors,” which towered over me as if I was an ant. I was truly alone. The first night everyone introduced themselves, I only heard mumbles of shadowy figures who were foreign to me. I was the only one from Texas, besides my neighbor, who was as timid as me. The first night was filled with despair and desolation, feelings which could only be soothed by the comforts of my family and my bed. The first few days I was a restrained version of myself making little attempts to connect with those around me.

That all changed due to one counselor and one activity, river. This counselor paired me up with a random kid in my cabin in an attempt to dismantle my wall of reticence. Through this small action I was able to open up out of my shell and create my first friend. Expanding upon that, in the next few days I became great friends with every single person in my cabin group. I had finally emerged from my diffident self and evolved into the voluble person I am today. My emotions rapidly shifted from immense homesickness and sadness to never wanting to see my family again. My camp truly became my happy place where every day seemed to go on forever. This feeling of independence shifted my entire world and taught me many things about life, such as the introduction of brotherhood. Going to an all-boys camp to stay in contact, but I truly wish I could see them every day as if we lived in the same hometown. I wish to help the legacy of that brotherhood, and maybe like my former counselor did, I want to help as many kids as I can to open themselves up in hopes that one day I can help change someone’s life for the better. My time at camp truly formed who I am today. created a special bond, which heavily influenced my decision to attend an all-boys school. The feeling of friendship that entails when living with people for several weeks at a time makes them seem more like family when it is almost over. Through the years those mumbles from shadowy figures soon changed to names and phone numbers in my contacts. As well as some of the best friends I have had for the past eight years of my life. Although I only see these people for a few weeks out of a whole year, I feel closer to them than some of my closest friends at school. Our living thousands of miles from each other forces us