June 9, 2026

Where: Ranger Road Park

When: 5:48 pm

Bird Species: Carolina wren, eastern bluebird, northern cardinal, house finch, American robin. Heard but not seen: eastern phoebe, acadian flycatcher

Things I Thought About:

• Some personal bullshit. No one is having a full on "What's it all for? What does it all mean??" existential examination of their life over here, I'll tell you that right now.
• Those bluebirds again. I see them every time I park here, and they have always flown away before I can get out.
• I can hear an acadian flycatcher, and it is making me crazy that I can't find him. I am as far off trail as I am prepared to get tonight without a bandana or hat handy. I need Lyme disease like a hole in the head.
• It's interesting how I only worry about Lyme disease and don't really worry about dengue fever as the biting bugs annihilate my ankles.
• In the car I was listening to the podcast Staying Alive, two comedy bros talking to their comedy colleagues about health and wellness, and they do the interview pre-roll introduction talking about the guest, he's had a great industry job for decades, he's taking great care of himself, he's jacked for his age, he's mentally and creatively as sharp as ever. I am getting "dude in his seventies." In the course of the interview, he reveals himself to be 54 years old.
• There's a phoebe, too. Both these flycatchers have to be right in front of me, on the edge of the water, but I have to give up on both of them. Too much brush, and no room on the creek edge to scoot around to the front. I don't have time to walk to the other side again; it's trivia night.
• A lady passing me on the bridge says, "Looking for birds?," and I say, "Finding some, too," and she says, "I hope you find what you're looking for." What an odd and lovely thing to say to a stranger. I did not find the flycatchers, but the bluebirds were there when I got back to my car.

BOTD: Carolina wren. There were a few of them! One was singing in a tree right next to where I parked, and then I saw two fly in together from across the street and perch up on the corner of the asphalt and on the corner of the fitness trail sign, respectively. I admit to trying for a minute to take a photo that would make some sort of artsy-fartsy statement about the bird being good for my heart? But the scale is off, and I'm not talented that way. I just know that a wren, my spark bird, is good for my heart.