I’ve done everything I can think of to improve my mindfulness. I’ve tried countless meditation apps and breathing exercises to stay in the present, and I’m always working on improving my mental health.
What helps me stay grounded has nothing to do with any of that. It’s an app for identifying birds.
Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s Merlin Bird ID launched in 2014 to help people identify the birds they see and hear. Thanks to eBird, the world’s largest database of bird sounds and photos based on 800 million global sightings, the app allows you to record a bird, answer a series of questions or upload a photo to name your winged friend. Or you can simply use the app to explore the different birds in your area, no matter where you are in the world, and even if you’re offline.
The app’s homepage, with three avenues for identification.
One of my favorite features of Merlin Bird ID is that you can use it to keep track of your bird sightings and, like an IRL Pokemon GO, “collect ’em all.”
The first time I used the app, I sat out on my balcony, clicked the green “Sound” button and watched as the app identified the birds chirping and singing in all directions. You can see the different sound frequencies as they appear on a real-time spectrogram, a visual representation of the audio world. The next time I checked the clock, I was shocked to see that an hour had passed. Then, I dug out my binoculars and let even more time fly.
What a spectrogram on the app looks like.
As any Merlin Bird IDer knows, there is no thrill quite like pressing the “This is my bird” button for the first time, and it never gets old. From there, you can record your location. The app, in turn, will save your report to improve its performance.
Before long, I had different bird sounds memorized. In the morning, I would wake to the sound of a California Towhee’s alarm-like and frankly, yes, annoying cheeping from a tree outside my window right as the sun started to rise. On walks around my neighborhood, I’d auditorially part the sound of cars and distant construction to hear the melody of House Finches mixed with staccato chirps of Lesser Goldfinches and the droning coos from a pair of Mourning Doves religiously stationed on electrical wires. It was the song that had been the soundtrack of my world, but I hadn’t noticed until now.
By sight, I’d recognize Red-Whiskered Bulbuls with their black crests and fire engine cheeks, a blush color waiting to be replicated in powder form. Black Phoebes made themselves known with their fluffy soot-black heads, statue stillness and ivory bellies. At the hummingbird feeder on my balcony, there is a never-ending line of customers with iridescent throats in sunset colors: Anna’s Hummingbirds (my favorite, as you might guess), Allen’s and even the uncommon Rufous, who spend all day fighting over sugar water when not watching the feeder from their magnolia tree perches.
A customer at our feeder. I think they’re an Allen’s Hummingbird.
What’s most thrilling is when the Merlin Bird app hears a bird that you can’t see, making it feel as though it’s your mission to treasure hunt your way to it. This is often a lesson in patience, as it may take you several tries to find the songbird you seek. Recently, while sitting in a new-to-me park, the app told me a Mountain Chickadee was nearby and I spent the next 45 minutes trying to spot it with my binoculars. It ended up on a branch directly above my head, and when I got up to leave, it flew down right by my face as if in on the joke that it was there the whole time.
I’ve yet to find the Red-Winged Blackbird who always seems to be just out of reach, no matter where I am in my city, but I console myself with the seemingly all-knowing flock of Common Ravens (also unjustly called an “unkindness”) evermore on my street and the surprising number of noises they can produce.
Birds I haven’t spotted … yet.
I also often listen back to the comforting hoo-hoos of a Great Horned Owl singing a 9:30 p.m. lullaby right before the start of spring. I like time-travelling to these moments, though I have come across some retrospectively hilarious conversations I unintentionally recorded in between birdsong. With that being said, Merlin Bird ID does save your audio recordings but only on your device in the app. To share the recordings with eBird, you have to manually export and upload them.
I now seek out unexplored wooded spaces to meet new feathered friends, an excuse for forest bathing, which has led me to see the shade of blue unique to a Ruddy Duck’s bill. After a rainstorm, I’ve come across a group of Acorn Woodpeckers with impressive red mohawks excitedly pecking wet, softened wood while calling to each other. Like a conversation between punk besties over dinner. My area is known for its large flocks of Amazon parrots (and their persistent screeches), whom I’ve now had the pleasure of seeing up close as they use their light yellow bills to climb trees and collect their berries. And once, just once, I caught the backside of a Yellow Warbler in a nearby watershed park.
The Acorn Woodpecker
Because of this app, I’ve spent more time listening to the world around me and less time in my own head, bobbing between the past and future. I’ve found myself surrounded by and in conversation with nature more than ever before. It may be the closest thing we have to magic here on Earth. Now, perhaps that is the key to grounding yourself: Getting your butt on the ground and taking the time to listen to those who are singing around you.
