I don’t have a hobby. At least not how I would describe the things I do outside of the studio.
Much of my time and brain are devoted to making art, marketing and writing about the art I make, getting to know other artists and their work, attending their exhibits, promoting their work, trying to build a business and community around art…and on and on.
There is one thing outside of art, though. I feed the birds. The times I uttered this activity to others, I was looked at as if I was feeding rats or worse, the spawn of Satan.
I should call it “luring the birds with food so I can watch them.” I’ve always been curious about animal behavior and studied animal behaviorism in college. Birds allow me to continue my studies.
Birds taught me to meditate.
Honestly, you can’t think of anything else while watching birds. Birds have also gotten me out of difficult dry spells when I was practicing my art in the margins. Every hour counted back then, and birds were a way to get drawing and painting again.
I have two hanging feeders, a suet feeder, and a deck railing where I place a stream of seed for the “ground feeders” to partake. Actually, everyone loves feeding from the railing. There is ample space, so at any given moment, there can be 6-7 bird species dining together like it was the last supper.
Over time, I have gotten to know individual birds by their temperament. Cardinals are especially expressive with their crests. A bird brushing its beak back and forth on a branch isn’t a sign of grooming; it means the bird is frustrated or plain pissed off. Chickadees get pissed off a lot.
I have so many questions about birds.
Do birds make friends? Do birds understand the songs of birds outside their species? What are birds saying when they sing? Do they know who I am? Where do birds go when it’s cold or pouring rain?
I admit, I sound like a ridiculous bird lady. This spring, I intentionally went looking for a book I had heard about a couple of years ago: “The Backyard Bird Chronicles” by Amy Tan.
As I’m reading her book, admiring her many sketches and fine drawings of birds, I stopped feeling absurd and feel I have found a kindred spirit instead. Amy asks many of the questions I do about birds, though with more wit.
Originally, I thought Amy began her bird project during the pandemic. She began it in 2016 when vicious attacks on Asian Americans made the news during the first Trump administration. Shame how soon I forgot this happened. Amy needed a place to feel safe. That meant being in nature, away from the city.
This spring, I am noticing fewer birds. Did the avian flu take its toll? Fewer birds means fewer birds. I’ll continue to feed them as long as they show up. Part of me feels obligated. The once wild habitat has been sliced into suburban development, leaving me the ultimate colonizer.
Side Note: Today’s featured art is an early foreshadowing of things to come. Both birds and insects are subjects I love and want to incorporate back into my work, and tell their stories.
If this post resonated with you, you might find meaning in these, too.
Reflections. We All Start At Zero. A watercolor artist’s career journey. From practicing art in the margins to going full-time as an artist, exhibiting my work, and building an art business.
Artistic Freedom. How a random text message led to reflecting on what artistic freedom really means.
How This Artist Structures Her Week. See how I learned how to structure my weeks to keep me from burning out and being able to grow my business, moving the needle slowly, intentionally, yet sanely.
