Learning to Listen
Today felt like spring may be approaching — sunshine, 50 degrees, the kind of light that makes you look for reasons to stay outside. I spent the morning doing yardwork, but even when I’m pulling weeds or trimming back branches, I’m never just doing yardwork. The woods are close, and the calls and songs always pull at my attention.
When I first started birding, I was convinced birding by ear would never be my thing. I’m a notoriously bad listener. Ask my family. But with birds, it’s different.
Yesterday I heard an uncommon set of chirps drifting from the trees and immediately thought, That’s the Hutton’s Vireo. I paused. Didn’t let myself get too confident. A quick check on Merlin (because I’m not fully trusting myself yet) confirmed it — I was right. I even tracked it down and caught a glimpse, which honestly felt like the bigger victory. Hearing it was one thing. Seeing it sealed the deal.
Today it was the Purple Finch.
Not a common yard bird for me, but the song is unmistakable. Somewhere along the way, I stopped just seeing birds and started hearing them too. Merlin’s sound patterns help paint a visual. Some patterns are forgettable. Others burn into your memory. The Purple Finch is one of those. When it sings now, I don’t just hear it — I see that looping, energetic pattern in my mind. (I’ll share the image of the song pattern here.)
The Purple Finch’s Song Spectrogram
I eventually spotted him at the very top of a tree. That rich raspberry color catching the sun. Seeing a Hutton’s Vireo and a Purple Finch within a few days of each other? That’s the kind of thing that quietly makes my week.
And then, as if that wasn’t enough, I turned my head and saw the brightest pink glowing from a small tree in the front yard. A hummingbird. I gave myself 30 seconds just to watch through the binoculars. Usually when I run inside for the camera, the bird is gone by the time I get back. But this one stayed. Sat there like it knew I needed the shot. I managed to get a couple photos that I’m genuinely proud of.
Later in the day, I headed to one of my favorite places — Theler Wetlands. The birding wasn’t spectacular numbers-wise, but I had one of those quiet realizations while walking. I was identifying birds by sound without thinking about it.
Marsh Wren.
Killdeer.
Red-winged Blackbird.
Belted Kingfisher.
Chickadees.
Green-winged Teal.
American Robin.
A year ago that would have felt impossible.
These small lessons are adding up. Each song learned. Each pattern recognized. Each quick confirmation that turns into confidence. I’m not an expert — not even close — but days like this make it feel possible.
And honestly, that might be the best part of all.
Anna’s Hummingbird
