Politics of birding
It’d be easy to think birding was apolitical. Go outside, count herons, have some social fun or a solitary stroll — nice comic relief from the real political issues of economics, (in)justice and “stolen” elections, right?
But most of North America’s birds are world travelers, sensitive to habitat disturbance in lands both far and near. If wetland protections are stripped from northern habitats, the small hordes of iridescent ducks that grace the Columbia each winter (boon to birders and hunters both) will dwindle. As people continue to clear and burn the Amazon, Neotropical songbirds which winter there (warblers, thrushes, tanagers, grosbeaks) begin to disappear from our own summer yards.
Whether or not you believe in climate change, the following data points are real: Arctic permafrost is melting. Arctic insects are hatching earlier and earlier, dying before shorebird chicks can fatten up on them. Suddenly, warmth-loving bushes are covering expanses of Arctic tundra, where shorebirds nest. Some shorebird populations are in freefall.
Here on earth we face the consequences of our choices.
For some declining bird species — like Arctic sandpipers — it’s the choices we Americans make today which decide whether they’ll continue to frequent the Big River each September, or live for us only in the paintings we hang on local museum and gallery walls.
A majority of Americans just chose to re-elect a president and a party who pulled this country out of the climate accords, who claim intentions to strip environmental regulations that protect such things as wetlands and endangered species, and who will not invest in green energy. Let’s not fool ourselves: The sandpipers at Riverfront Park will face the consequences of these decisions, too.
Waking up on Nov. 7, it is impossible not to mourn those tiny rufous-winged musical-voiced shorebirds who visited my river from the Arctic, now perhaps winging their way through Mexico, all unknowing what they now face. In South America, will they find beaches still safe and full of delicious algae?
That depends on people’s political choices.
I haven’t written much about politics here. People don’t tend to vote with birds in mind, and that’s understandable — we vote for justice, for the money to keep our families fed, for safety, for vital healthcare, sometimes even for our beliefs of right and wrong.
But our votes this decade also decide the death of species. The status of bird populations is a welfare check on lands, air and waters which (like it or not) we all depend on.
I have strong opinions about this, though as a journalist, I strive to leave my own biases outside the newsroom door. We all work to listen fairly to those with whom we disagree, and strive to include different beliefs in any conversation. I believe every person’s perspective on the world is a story worth telling, and that’s just basic good journalism — and human dignity.
The health of earth, air, water and birds is one perspective that should be part of our discussions about political issues in Wasco County — though some of you might disagree with my personal opinions on climate change and political candidates.
For now, when life is all too much, we can still walk out onto the beach and agree that a sandpiper is an odd and beautiful dinosaur. Let’s go outside, find a finch and fact-check this: Birds are wonderful medicine for our pain and loneliness. To watch a bird is to touch another world. And they are everywhere.
Birds are refreshingly honest; they never approach humans as superior or inferior beings — mostly, they simply and intelligently run away. When they cautiously return, it’s with honest fear and curiosity in their bright eyes (and sometimes a hunger for black oil sunflower seeds).
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