Lifers. A term usually associated with prisoners who are incarcerated for life. Also a term birders use. Not for caged birds, though. What qualifies as a “lifer” for birders? According to National Audubon’s Dictionary for Birders - yes, this is a real thing - “a first-time sighting of a particular species”.

When I first started bird watching more seriously, slowly allowing myself to be called a “birder”, it was primarily with the intent of learning about my avian neighbors and to practice drawing them from life. The practice of drawing birds from life is a big endeavor with their constant flitting about. Back then, I didn’t have a lot of time to devote to watching birds while trying to draw so I didn’t bother to keep a list. I didn’t want to become that kind of birder. Recognizing my time restrictions, I only wanted to memorize the various species I saw and recognize field marks; appreciate that I could get outside and spend a little time with my avian friends; watching, wondering, and making chicken-scratch notes about them in my sketchbook. I could be in the moment with them. Meanwhile, I took several short workshops about birds, and then a 12-month college-level ornithology course offered through a MA Audubon campus. I wanted all of this learning to inform my art and my teaching. My husband encouraged me to start keeping a list. I said no need.

Fast forward to a cross-country bicycle trip that offered the chance to watch birds and follow their songs from the west to the east coast. This is when I became far more interested in birds. Now my time was flipped. There was far more time on the bike to watch the birds and less time for making art. Something about this experience also triggered a more passionate connection to the birds. There were so many new-to-me species, lifers. There was the time a Western Kingbird flew from one fence post to another for about a half-mile, staying just far enough away from my husband and me as we rode on down the road but most certainly keeping tabs on our location. Or the time we passed by a wetted field lined with cattails. Nothing unusual about that except there were two cars pulled over on the shoulder and a group of people looking out into the field. I was curious enough to stop and ask them what they were looking at. They responded with a combination of curiosity and confusion and pointed toward the field. They asked me if I knew what it was. It took me a few seconds to spy the object of their interest but then boom! I could see the flock of Yellow-headed Blackbirds! There were the Lazuli and Lark Buntings spotted in North Dakota’s Roosevelt National Park. Then there were the hundreds of swallows in mixed-species flocks nesting under nearly every single bridge we crossed. They were constantly on the move, hunting and feeding their young. This was something I did not expect when planning for our cycling adventure. It took me by surprise, energized and deeply moved me.

I did not have a “spark bird”, another birding term from Audubon’s dictionary referring to the “species that trigger a lifelong passion for birding”. I had a summer-long “spark experience”.

Yes, I am keeping a list now; the cycling adventure convinced me that I needed to do this. It’s probably more organized than many. It’s an Excel spreadsheet with a complete formal list of North American birds that not only checks off the species observed but also the states in which I saw them. Lifers are highlighted in orange so I can keep track of where I saw a given species for the first time. Too much? I guess I’m “that kind” of birder now. At least I am not a twitcher; that is, “one who goes to great lengths to see a species and add it to his or her list”.

Yet.

I now live in Alaska. This is a state where thousands of bird species come to nest and rear young. The Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, the Pribilofs, the Aleutian Islands, all places I plan to visit to see the birds, draw them, learn about them and write about them. Here in south-central Alaska alone, I’ve had a handful of lifers in just five short months. I wasn’t even chasing down species to tick off the list. In other words, Alaska’s wide range of habitats supports a massive number of bird species in their life cycle requirements, allowing me to start ticking off my list without much effort. However, it’s going to get harder as I add to my lifers list here. I can feel a tingling twitch that might make me a twitcher. Maybe.

As I embark on researching and writing a book about bird migration from an artist’s perspective, I am devoting much of my time in the field to watch, learn and draw birds. Keeping a list helps organize part of my work. My passion for birds goes beyond ticking names off on a list, however. I want to know the bird. I want to know where it came from and where it goes. What does it eat? How does it live? How long is your journey and what fun adventures did you have on your way here? What scary moments did you experience? See how I slipped into anthropomorphization there? I really do think of birds as “beings” with personalities and goals and needs, just like me.

Over these many years of watching, hearing, drawing and learning about birds my original intent paid off. Below is a selection of sketchbook and studio work. All this observation time has contributed to informing my art, resulting in private commissions, book illustration projects and fine art pieces. It’s also informed my teaching….my bird drawing workshops are sell-out events.

Please enjoy this short collection of more recent works that represent my style of interpreting what I see. Consider leaving a comment to let me known what you think and reach out if you wish to talk more about the work I do.

LIFERS....What the Heck is That?