Thomson - Birding with Yeats: A Mothers Memoir

Copyright 2014 Lynn Thomson

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This edition published in 2014 by
House of Anansi Press Inc.
Spadina Avenue, Suite
Toronto, ON, MV K
Tel. -- 4343
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Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Thomson, Lynn, 1960 , author
Birding with Yeats: a memoir / Lynn Thomson.

Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN -- 77089 -- (pbk.).ISBN -- 77089 -- (epub)

. Thomson, Lynn, 1960 .. Thomson, Lynn, 1960 Family.
. Mothers and sons.. Birdwatching. I. Title.

HQ..T 2014 . C 2013 - 6999
C 2013 - 907000

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013918882

Jacket design: Alysia Shewchuk
Photo of Lynn and Yeats Thomson courtesy of Barbara Stoneham.
Maps by Alysia Shewchuk.

We acknowledge for their financial support of our publishing program the Canada Council for the Arts, the Ontario Arts Council, and the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund.

For Ben and Yeats

Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, Stay awhile.
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, Its simple, they say,
and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.

Mary Oliver, from When I Am Among the Trees

PROLOGUE

IF I SIT IN a forest thick with pines and pay close attention to the sound of every living thing, I feel as though my heart might split open. I put my ear to a clump of moss and hear the Earth breathe. There are a billion little creatures chewing in the leaf mould, a billion tiny wings whirring under the blackberry thicket. When I lie down in the tall grass, I hear this and Im slowly consumed by the press of nature.

I come out of the forest on top of a hill and into a meadow of sumac and juniper. The smell is different here; the heat feels different. These small trees give off such a different vibration from those tall pines. In a pine forest in the wind, all the sound is high up in the treetops, whooshing and sighing. Ferns on the forest floor, green and straining towards the light, give off their own slightly bitter aroma.

If I left this place for the tropics, with all those dripping, viney trees, would I long eternally for the pines? Would I lie in bed at night listening to the howler monkeys scream and feel the longing spin through every cell of my body? Would I fall asleep with the smell of frangipani enveloping me and wake with the scent of pine on my skin?

And I havent even mentioned the birds! The chickadees alone, with their incessant deedeedee , can rattle my senses, not to mention the nuthatches and the peck-peck-pecking at the trees.

I find that when I really pay attention, Ill remember which bird Im hearing (sounds almost like a robin, must be a red-eyed vireo), which bird that is with the black-and-yellow head (, but I should be able to recognize our city squirrels. Its a good reminder to stay present, instead of allowing my mind to wander and daydream.

Part of the reason my son, Yeats, and I go anywhere is to bird-watch. It has become a habit. We rarely set out on an expedition with the intention of seeing one particular bird species. We just go birdwatching. The act of being outdoors looking for birds, especially ones weve never seen before, is enough. Some people are very competitive in their birding. Maybe theyll die happy, having seen a thousand species before they die, but Ill die happy knowing Ive spent all that quiet time being present.

Sometimes I think that the point of birdwatching is not the actual seeing of the birds, but the cultivation of patience. Of course, each time we set out, theres a certain amount of expectation that well see something, maybe even a species weve never seen before, and that it will fill us with light. But even if we dont see anything remarkable and sometimes that happens we come home filled with light anyway.

Birding complements Yeatss personality his patience, his calmness, his drive to make lists, and his fabulous memory. It also complements his desire to be in the natural world, to see beautiful things, and to seek deeper meaning about our place as a species on this earth.

I think the most important quality in a birdwatcher is a willingness to stand quietly and see what comes. Our everyday lives obscure a truth about existence that at the heart of everything there lies a stillness and a light.

ONE

IT WAS BEN WHO taught me the basics of birdwatching, early in our relationship. He took me across the footbridge over the Don Valley Parkway, in the east end of Toronto, to a place called Riverdale Farm. The farm was once Torontos first zoo, but in 1974 it became a working farm with domestic animals like Shorthorn cows, Cotswold sheep, and Nubian goats. It was a fifteen-minute walk from our apartment and a refuge from the busy city that surrounds it.

We stood by a wild patch of ground beside a chain-link fence that separated the farm from the Bayview Avenue extension. Cars roared past, hidden from view. The farm animals were up the hill in the corrals and barns. We were alone down there, near the pond, hiding behind a little patch of land all covered in bushes. We stood stock-still and waited.

On those beginner expeditions we saw , and various sparrows and warblers. Id always loved sparrows and was surprised to learn that there were so many varieties. Around Toronto you can find roughly fifteen kinds if youre lucky and patient and know where to look.