I took a folding idea into the park: perhaps I should acquire more equipment before taking this hobby seriously. Then I sat on a bench and watched the area around it for half an hour.

The bench was doing excellent work. It gave me a stable place to look from, made it easier to remain still and allowed me to notice the same patch repeatedly without spending the whole interval walking through it.

A bird landed, left and returned. Another moved along the ground in short bursts. I could compare actions because the surroundings stayed recognizable. The observation did not become more valuable when I imagined a price tag attached to the seat.

I wrote a few notes and made a very rough drawing. The drawing helped me remember position and shape even though no gallery will be requesting it. A useful field sketch can be extremely modest.

Sitting also changed my expectations. I stopped asking the park to produce a new sighting every few minutes. I watched what arrived and left a little room for nothing to happen. The quiet intervals helped me recognize movement when it did appear.

Equipment can answer particular needs, and I may choose it thoughtfully when those needs become clear. The bench answered one I had been overlooking: spend enough time in one ordinary place for a sequence to emerge.

On the way home, I checked the notebook before reaching for a shopping list. The page already contained observations I wanted to revisit. Taking the hobby seriously could begin with returning to the same bench.

Maeve Lin
About the author

Neighborhood bird watcher

I'm based in Ottawa, Canada. I write about birdwatching from ordinary streets, borrowed benches and the kitchen window.

A thought worth keeping?