Timothy Beatley - The Bird-Friendly City

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2020 Timothy Beatley

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher: Island Press, 2000 M Street, NW, Suite 650, Washington, DC 20036.

Generous support for the publication of this book was provided by Margot and John Ernst.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020936538

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Keywords: Audubon; Beeliar Wetlands; Boreal forest; Boreal Songbird Initiative; Burrowing Owl; Catio; Chicago; Chimney Swift; Climate change; Common Swift; Cornell Lab of Ornithology; eBird; Fatal Flight Awareness Program; Global Big Day; Habitat loss; Habitat restoration; Juniper Titmouse; Lights Out; London; Migratory flyway; New York; Oriental Pied Hornbill; Perth; Pesticides; Phoenix; Portland; Predation; Rachel Carson; San Francisco; Singapore; Silent Spring; Swift Conservation; Toronto; Vancouver; Vulture; Wild At Heart

To Anneke, Carolina, and Jadie

Few aspects of the natural world touch us as deeply as our interactions with birds. Watching birds is therapeutic and entertaining, as birds behave and move and fly in ways that delight and astound us. And for many people in cities, they create daily moments of awe and wonder.

For me, its the songs of the American Wood Thrush that calm me and make me profoundly happy, embed me in the place I live, and immediately return me to my childhood days of time spent outside exploring and camping in the backyard tent. Research shows that its not just me who feels this way. Birdsong is therapeutic music to our human ears. Taking advantage of this, a pediatric hospital in the United Kingdom records birdsong and plays it during stressful times for patients, such as right before going into surgery.

Part of what compelled me to work on this book was the realization that birds are the backdrop to my life, as they are to most of our human lives. I had the pleasure and great privilege of growing up in a house surrounded by trees in the middle of a city. There were birds always, and my parents always had bird feeders near the house. My mom especially was a keen lover of birds; whatever I learned in the way of identifying and appreciating birds likely came from her.

I tend to recall places by the birds I experienced in them. I have fond memories of time spent on the coast in North Carolina (where I am said to have walked for the first time) to the Gulf Coast of Floridaplaces that were always filled with birds. The wondrous frolics of Brown Pelicans, sailing and surfing just inches above the crest of waves and maintaining tight flight formations, mesmerized me.

When I was in my early teens, my dad and I took a momentous trip through Alaska. We began with a boat trip up the inland passageway, and I recall excitedly seeing my very first American Bald Eagle. The species was, at that time in the early 1970s, not doing very well. I kept a careful running tally of the Bald Eagles I saw (a remarkable number) over the course of those several weeks, and I will always associate these majestic birds with the time I spent with my father, exploring a place so exotic to both of us.

My household itself was a flying one. My father was a captain for United Airlines, piloting stretch DC-8s to West Coast cities and Hawaii. My aspiration was always to be a pilot as well, a compelling interest for me from a young age, fueled undoubtedly by pride in what my dad did. I obtained my pilots license at age seventeen, learning to fly in the familys single-engine Cherokee 140. Even before flying power planes, I cut my flying teeth on gliders (or sailplanes), later earning a commercial sailplane license and for a short time giving glider rides.

Sailplanes offered an experience about as close as possible to being a real bird. And I felt a special kinship with the Turkey Vultures with which I shared the skies of Piedmont Virginia. I marveled at their ability to bank, glide, and circle endlessly and effortlessly, rarely needing to flap their wings. My fondness for Vultures predates my sailplane flying, but we glider enthusiasts had a special fascination with them, and we knew to try to head in their direction and catch the thermals they were using to stay aloft. To me, a soaring Vulture was always the epitome of beauty and grace in action. They seemed to defy physics.

My adult life has also been marked to a large degree by contact with birds. When my wife and family and I lived in Leiden, Netherlands, a dense, ancient city, we spent many happy hours watching the birdlife of the citys canals, including newly hatched Swan families and the Coot, one of our favorite birds. Without the presence of these birds, our experience of this beautiful, historic city would have been much reduced. About a decade later, we found ourselves living in Australia and in turn defining daily life by the birds, quite exotic to us, that we heard and saw. As we moved into a new apartment in the Sydney beach suburb of Coogee, we were greeted on the balcony by a group of cheeky Sulphur-crested Cockatoos, which were interested in who these new occupants were and whether they might be generous with food. We enjoyed those birds and many others in Australia. We later lived in Fremantle, Western Australia, and fondly returned a number of times to be greeted by the magical sounds of Australian Ravens and the flute-like serenades of Magpies. I came to consider these Magpies my friends and co-residents, and I remember interacting with them fondly.