Watch out

I’ve never understood why anyone would opt for Lasik – elective eye surgery, when you can just buy an expensive pair of binoculars. Better optics without messing with your optic nerve. Well, my boss noticed I had several pairs stacked one on top of the other at my ever-shrinking desk. There was a tiny pair, good for grabbing at a moment’s notice, smoothly fitting in the tightest denim pockets. A piece of equipment that barely forms a bulge. Then there was a much larger, more refined family heirloom – my great-grandfather’s field glasses. Sharp enough to spot a wild turkey taking the edge off with a tall glass of Wild Turkey. Our true national bird appreciates good bourbon as much as anyone else. My boss – obviously, disgusted – asked me, “what exactly is the meaning of this? Are you some kind birdwatcher? We got a regular JJ Audubon ovah heah.” 

This was a telling remark. You see, Audubon was not your average birdwatcher. He painted, but he also dined and dined well. Feasting on whatever his subject was that afternoon. Unfortunately, birds aren’t the most obedient models. But dead ones are. Good thing I had already eaten a non-avian lunch this particular afternoon.

He would’ve called me into his office had we not gotten rid of offices years before. Instead, he did the best he could, sitting me down and saying without a hint of irony, “I like you. I really do. But bird watching is a pastime for the past, not the present, and definitely not the future.”

It never occurred to him that binoculars could be used to look at other things besides our feathered compadres. Tragic to go through life that lost. There’s no map he can buy to help either.

“Birds watch you whether you watch them or not. And whether you like it or not. Don’t you think it’s wise to take back control of the narrative.”

He didn’t get it. He didn’t comprehend that birds have wonderful eyesight, spying on us for pleasure. 

But we feed the birds, provide them with houses, and yet, when the time comes to spice up our work environments, they are overlooked time after time. No matter how stellar their resume looks on paper (sterling migratory record, perfect pitch, straight V student, an intuitive sense of aerodynamics), to the bottom of the pile they go. Office mangers prefer the deafening silence of inspirational posters when reimagining a floorplan. 

What if the Wright Brothers had been similarly set in their ways? Choosing to take a dip at Kitty Hawk instead of admiring our pals from above? Human beings might still be grounded. The birds have given us so much and have asked for very little in return. The occasional sprinkling of seed, but not much else. They deserve better, a lot better.

Birds have something to say. Are we listening?