Lens Envy and the Bunting

Earlier this week I had to go to Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary for work. It just so happens that there was a birding treat in progress when I got there. I'm not much of a birder but when the dozen or so "real birders" came in to see the Bunting, I admit to getting caught up in the moment and taking the opportunity to see what all the fuss was about.

I did not take this picture. Turns out that there are many
different types of buntings. This is the one that most
closely matches what I saw.

The Bunting is a little, non-descript brown bird with no remarkable markings or colors. Had I seen it myself I wouldn't have thought a thing of it. But "real birders" know what a rare occurrence this is and apparently have been flocking (ba dum bum) to WBWS since the little bird first appeared over the weekend. The word spread quickly in the birding world and people came from 3, 4, 5 hours away to see the little guy.

Luckily I didn't have to work very hard to find him. I just had to wander across the nature center to the bank of windows with 12-15 people standing/sitting/crouching absolutely silently with eyes and binoculars trained on a bird feeder about 15 feet outside the window. Again luck was with me because some kind soul had printed a large picture of the Bunting and posted it  so that rookies like me didn't get all excited and point out a Chickadee or a Sparrow thinking I'd seen the wondrous Bunting.

I stole quietly to a corner with a great view of the bird feeder where he had apparently been all morning and assumed the role of "patient birder" (a role not ideally made for me as I'm not always that patient). I keyed in on the gaze of a nearby RB (Real Birder) to try and figure out if the spectacle that we were looking for was indeed there or we were just waiting for its return.

The one on the right is similar to the object
of my desire this week.

As I waited, I noticed the cameras of one couple that had come in while I was visiting with one of my volunteers at the front desk. They each had lenses that had to have been 12-14" in length and heaven only knows what the magnification was! I soon realized that I was no longer studying the base of the bird feeder or the RB's but I was now vying for position so that I could get a better look at their cameras. Neither had their digital display on though so I never got a chance to see just how close their zoom lens got them to that little bird. I'd venture to say that they could have done a thorough inspection of a flea on a bird's feathers at 100 yards with that lens! I had major lens envy.

Lens envy is not a new phenomenon for me. My husband gave me an amazing camera for Christmas last year and we had spent the first several days of our Alaskan vacation last summer wowing ourselves (and overwhelming my hard drive with HUGE format photos) with its abilities. Then we took a glacier cruise with a woman whose lens was probably 16-18" long and must have been zoomed in on the barnacles on the Humpback whales that we saw a half mile away. It was my first bout of lens envy and we still talk about it today. Of course I'd have to sell my car and take out a second mortgage on our home for that lens (I googled it...) so there won't be one of those gracing my camera bag any time soon!

So... back at Mass Audubon... As I ogled the lenses, I was suddenly stirred by the excitement that blazed through the room when the Bunting arrived at last. (Okay... Blazing excitement from birders is the most mellow hushed rush I've ever experienced (molasses in December comes to mind) - far from the leaping and yelling when the Patriots looked like they might win the Super Bowl this past Sunday... But that's another story.)

Although I wasn't impressed with his markings or his color etc, I was impressed with the dedication and passion it must take to be a real birder. I'll admit that when he arrived, I watched him (or her - who am I kidding?) carefully for several minutes and then let my eyes wander to the rippled effect that the gust of wind had in the empty birdseed shells and the wave of the tips of the branches after the fat Bluejays vacated them. I realized that my brain is designed to be an observer of nature with ADD-like focus - taking it bits of stimuli from various sources - Not a passionate birder with steely focus on one thing. And I realized... That's okay with me because while those real birders were busy checking bunting off their list of lifetime birds spotted, I'll they never noticed how the wind made the seed shells flip like a school of fish skimming the surface of the water and that's okay because we all see joy and art in the world in different ways. I'm glad I didn't miss the  wind's artistic waves... or the Bunting.