I think the worst thing about the current economic crisis is the insecurity and uncertainty.  I’ve already survived two rounds of layoffs, and even though I’m now responsible for twice as many accounts as I had been previously, I still worry that I might find myself on the chopping block.   So when my company asked if I would be willing to relocate to the city, I didn’t even think about it.  I said yes.

The thing is, I loved living in the country.  I’m an avid birder and was an active member of my local Audubon chapter.  Each weekend I was up before dawn, traipsing through meadows and thickets with binoculars in hand, checking birds off my list.  So far I’ve seen every bird native to my state and several that aren’t, although I still have yet to see the rare Bachman’s Warbler.  Now that I’ve relocated to Metropolis, I don’t know if I ever will.  Dick Davenport, Jeremy Cavendish, and the rest of the gang at the bird club gave me a swell going away party, complete with a cake in the shape of a red-breasted nuthatch.  They know me so well!  I’ll miss those guys. 

Metropolis is a very large city, so I don’t know why I was so surprised to find a small pocket of urban birders here.  I stumbled across the website for the Metropolis Birdwatchers while researching the local city bird population on the Internet.  The club contact person was a gentleman named Victor, and I sent him a polite email of introduction.  He responded almost immediately.  He seemed very impressed with the list of birds I had seen, and invited me to join the club on their weekly bird watching excursion in City Park.  I was thrilled.  I usually birded alone or with Dick, so I was excited to try birding with a larger group.  I researched the local bird species and drew up a list.  I was so excited I even included the Bachman’s Warbler. A boy can dream, can’t he?

I arrived at City Park promptly at nine o’clock and found the group easily.  There were about ten people besides myself, and they all seemed quite lovely.  My concerns about moving to the city were easing.  This may not be so bad, I thought.  After a few minutes of pleasant conversation the group decided to head up to the north-west corner of the park and work around to the south-east, ending by the fountain.  I pulled out my list and started scanning the tree line.

“LOOK!” shouted one of my fellow birders. “UP IN THE SKY! IT’S A BIRD!”

We all turned and craned our necks to see what he was pointing at.  Flying away was a pigeon, clearly startled by the sudden shouting.

Wow, I thought to myself.  These guys sure are enthusiastic about birding.

I looked down at my list of birds sheepishly.  Pigeons were so common I hadn’t even included them on the list.  I was immediately ashamed by my birding arrogance.  Pigeons are birds, too, and quite beautiful birds when you take a second to look at them.  The Metropolis Birdwatchers were certainly excited to see one.  I scrawled “Rock Dove” at the bottom of my list and checked it off just in time for the next sighting.

“LOOK! UP IN THE SKY!” shouted another birder. “IT’S A BIRD!”

Again, a pigeon. Again, flying away. While I appreciated this group’s enthusiasm, I was starting to worry that all the birds were fleeing the area.  Pigeons, after all, aren’t too easily scared away by human activity.  The group also didn’t seem to be putting too much effort into identifying the species of bird, either.  They seemed content with just acknowledging the presence of a bird of some sort.  A soon to be departing bird, actually. I was about to mention this to Victor when the next call went out.

“LOOK! UP IN THE SKY! IT’S A BIRD!” shouted the woman to my left.

“IT’S A PLANE!” corrected Victor.

Actually, it was a Frisbee.  A neon orange Frisbee.  I looked at my new birding companions again, seeing them as if for the first time.  They certainly looked sane enough, I thought.  They were all sharply dressed.  One man was even carrying a briefcase.  And we had chatted a bit about the traffic, so I knew some of them had at least passed a driver’s license eye exam.  Perhaps their birding skills are just a little dull.  City air can do that, I suppose.  I started taking shallower breaths.

I felt it would be rude to excuse myself so soon, so I soldiered on.  Over the next half hour we saw third-five more “birds,” including seventeen pigeons, two sparrows, a European starling, two planes, a kite, the same Frisbee six more times, a football, a butterfly, and four plastic bags either blowing in the wind or stuck in the trees.  I noticed the group was starting to eye me suspiciously, and I realized I was the only one yet to spot a “bird.”  I suppose Victor had told them of my birding credentials, and it must have seemed odd that the new “expert” was doing so poorly.  I looked around and saw a pigeon land on a nearby bench by some abandoned french fries.

“Look,” I said, with noticeably less gusto than the others. “Up in the sky! It’s… a bird.”

“IT’S A PLANE!” shouted Victor, smiling.

Actually, it was a bird, and it wasn’t up in the sky, but it didn’t seem to matter.  I had been an outsider up to that point, but now the group seemed to accept me as one of their own.  I did a quick mental review of my emails with Victor, trying to remember how much personal information I had given him.  I think I told him that my new apartment was downtown, but I don’t think I given him my phone number or anything.  I decided to abandon my yahoo email account and keep an eye out for a new place.  Maybe cancel my cellular plan, just in case.

I watched as the man with the briefcase got a little too enthusiastic pointing out the next “bird,” and he ended up nursing a pretty bad bee sting.  On second thought, I could probably give these people detailed directions to my apartment, complete with a map, GPS, and my phone number in case they get lost, and I bet they still wouldn’t find it. 

It’s no wonder these people need saving all the time.