By Carole Carsey

The author, a former volunteer for the DFW Wildlife Coalition hotline, is quadriplegic from polio and uses a portable respirator most of the time.  She uses a motorized wheelchair.        

As a birder, I am just as achievement oriented, experience-greedy and eager to impress others with my knowledge of birds as the next guy.  I love both the intrinsic thrill of seeing a "new bird"; others refer to it as adding another bird to their "life list."  Birding is a competitive sport, even if most of the competitiveness is with oneself, and I am certainly competitive. 

My knowledge of birds, though modest, is exciting to me, but when I listen to myself, I can hear that sometimes I go beyond sharing my excitement to trying to dazzle.  The fun of birding has oh so many facets, but, despite all of the above, certainly the dearest moments for me have been those brief encounters with a bird when I am only inches away from the small, wild creature.

One of these encounters occurred for me in San Angelo, Texas.  My husband Willie and I spent the night there on the way from our home in Dallas to Big Bend for a few days of birding.  It was December, and we wanted to explore for winter birds before driving on.  We were birding from the front seat of the van.  First, we drove to the lake and worked at identifying several kinds of ducks.  I was so excited about birding that the rain shower as we left the lake did not dampen my spirits so I wanted to stop at the city park as planned. Soon after entering the park, we spotted a Golden-Fronted Woodpecker, a new bird for us.  We pulled into the parking place of a campsite to look up the woodpecker in our field guide.  Our windows were down so the rustle of leaves caught our attention easily in the quiet park. We located the sound as coming from a bird of about eight inches foraging vigorously in the leaves at the base of a tree about twelve yards away.  We whispered to each other as we tried to identify this bird.  My first thought at seeing its white speckled breast was that it was some type of thrush.  The bird was busy and not bothered by our presence, so with our field guide already out, Willie turned to the page for the thrushes.  It just didn't match.
 
Then the bird flew to a branch closer to us and to the right of the van.  It sat for a moment then flew again, not away from us, but to us, landing on the passenger-side mirror only a few inches away from my face.  The bird and I looked at each other.  I felt the blood rush to my face as I blushed.  Willie and I were so stunned by this intimate visit with this bird that its brief presence for a few seconds felt like several minutes.  After the bird left, I quietly said, "I can't believe that."

After this encounter, I thought more about my immediate reaction.  Why did I blush?  The way I best explain it is that it felt like a close encounter with God, and surely, I would blush if I were only inches away from the face of God.

Another intimate moment for me was my first encounter with a Bewick’s Wren.  I was at Possum Kingdom State Park near Mineral Wells, Texas – a little west of Fort Worth.  The countryside there is rocky and rugged.  Rolling around the campsite area by myself, I was proceeding slowly, stopping to look for birds and then moving on to another spot.  My wheelchair moved quietly making it easy for me to listen for bird sounds.  I noticed a small bird stirring in a large juniper.  I moved slowly, closer into the juniper, almost touching it as I tried to see the bird well enough to identify it.  Sitting quietly, I moved only my head to peer around or through the branches.  It was a sunny, crisp November day, and in tall boots and a heavy denim skirt to my ankles, I was dressed to stay warm.  After a few moments, the bird flew out of the tree and seemed to land on the ground next to the left front wheel.  I leaned to the left to look, trying slowly to move my cape out of my line of vision.  Then, for an instant, I felt the bird flutter against my leg and saw that it had flown back into the tree.  I realized that the bird had not been on the ground but had landed on me, probably on the skirt just where it draped over the top of my boot.  Since the little bird weighs practically nothing, I had not felt its presence until its wing fluttered against me as it left.  My explanation was that initially the bird had not realized he had landed on a person.  When he realized this, he left in a hurry, and, oh, did he chatter when he returned to the tree.  For me it was as if he were saying, "Can you believe it!  I just landed on a person. Can you believe it!  Can you believe it!"  A Bewick's Wren makes a raspy fussing sound, something like the fussing of a Northern Mockingbird.  This little bird continued to fuss at me and exclaim to his peers for a long time.  As I sat quietly and looked into the tree, I was able to get a better look at the bird and identified it easily when I excitedly returned to my friends with the field guide.

I am convinced that anyone could duplicate my experience with Ruby-Throated and Rufus Hummingbirds in Colorado.  While the family was staying in a mountain cabin for a week, a favorite inside pastime for all of us was watching the hummingbirds at the feeder and watching the chipmunks and ground squirrels on the ledge of the picture window just below the hummingbird feeder.

After several days of this, I had an idea to try out.  Early in the morning, before too much activity in and out the door, I asked for help getting my wheelchair situated outside, parallel to the window ledge. The plastic tray that attaches over the chair arms of the wheelchair was just the same height as the window ledge so we made a trail of peanuts from the window ledge onto my board to entice the cute little creatures even closer to me.  I sat in the cold waiting to see if they would come. 

I noticed that though my head was only 12 to 18 inches from the hummingbird feeder, the activity there resumed relatively soon after I came out.  I could feel the breeze from the hummingbirds’ wings and see them closer than ever.  Oh, this was thrilling.  But then, I had an even better idea.  Getting the attention of Willie inside the cabin, I motioned him to come out and asked him to take the hummingbird feeder off the wire and set it on my plastic tray. 

The hummingbirds soon returned.  Sure, they preferred to eat from the side away from me, but they came – the males and females, the Ruby-Throated and the beautiful and more aggressive Rufus. The females were less leery of me than the males. I was entranced to see these amazing birds, only inches away from me.  Sometimes I could see their tongues; I could see the individual tiny feathers. 

Initially they hovered to drink though the feeder had perches.  Later, they began occasionally using the perches on the far side.  This was approaching a true peak experience.  Then, I had another idea.  Again, I motioned my husband to come out to do my bidding.  I asked him to remove all the perches from the hummingbird feeder and place my hands on the plastic tray next to the feeder so that my hands would be located where the perches had been.  He protested somewhat but complied with my request.  Yes, the hummingbirds were soon back sitting on my hands as they drank the red syrup.  It was thrilling.  It was amazing to look on my hand and see the bird there, yet the bird weighs almost nothing so though I saw the bird on my hand, I could hardly feel it there.  This truly was a peak experience!

What wonderful memories to treasure!