Judging Life by the Worth of Birds?

There are many things we accumulate in life: credentials, stamps on passports, possessions, friends, warm memories, etc. Birdwatching functions as a kind of experiential accumulation. It hinges on noninterference (you do not interact with the bird outwardly), yet it also suggests that we are participants in our own witnessing. The birds reveal themselves to us, which reveals something about us—our perceptiveness, yes, but also our location within time and space. All encounters hinge upon both probable and improbable factors. 

Some birdwatchers keep a “life list,” which tracks every bird they have witnessed. (And there are upwards of 10,000 bird species!) What does it mean to judge our lives based on pure witnessing rather than status, influence, or achievement? There’s an oddly spiritual question here—whether our worth can be measured in how many birds have revealed itself to us/how much we accept their revelation.

So why should we judge our lives by the worth of birds? Why not fish, mammals, or any other animal?

Flight aside, birds are one of the most spectacular creatures. They have evolved elaborate appearances, songs, and rituals to attract mates. In some cases, they appear almost alien.

I’ve been reading Richard O. Prum’s The Evolution of Beauty, a largely bird-focused book. In it, Prum explores how female choice (i.e. favoring aesthetic ornaments, like colorful plumage) has led to the evolution of body and ritual among birds. This notion – that beauty can ‘defy’ natural selection, (ornaments not necessarily being signifiers of health or fertility)—is enchanting; it opens a new realm of possibility. Many bird species exist at the crossroads between beauty and survivability.

Take the Birds of Paradise, for example. You have the King-of-Saxony and his lengthy head feathers. You have the Magnificent Riflebird and his iridescent throat. You have Wilson’s Bird of Paradise, with his mosaic red, yellow, and blue patterning. Each of these birds has developed a beautiful but risky showmanship.

As humans, we are not wholly dissimilar. We, too, attract one another with rituals and ornaments. Our “displays” are not so extreme as to court death, but like birds, we choose each other based on factors that defy (or transcend) mere natural selection. Perhaps through birdwatching, we are judging our own capacity to perceive interspecies beauty—or else recognizing the beauty inherent in ourselves and in nature.