I am not officially a "birder", one who studies the habitat of birds: their identity, their call, and their seasonal migration. I am acquainted with birders themselves. They fill the trail where I walk, with binoculars and cameras focused on the trees. Birders are congenial people with a passion for birds. One morning I stumbled onto a class of excited birders. A Barred Owl had been spotted. The owl was visible only to the practiced eye. Its dark bars blended perfectly into the tree where it perched. At first, I saw only a bump on a tree. Invited to look though a birder's telescope, the owl came into focus. As I watched, it turned its head in my direction. "What are you looking at," it seemed to say. I began to understand the birder's passion. Why am I, a non-birder, writing poetry about birds? This small contribution entitled: Wing Prints in the Air: Poetry for Bird Lovers is the result of my own encounters with birds. Though I am not officially a "birder," I am a bird observer. Perhaps I'm a wannabe birder and don't know it. The poems here do not represent a practiced birder's knowledge. Each piece is my experience at a particular moment: on a walk, sitting by a river, or while drinking coffee in my backyard. The poems are works of imagination. I invite you, birder or bird admirer, to enjoy my simple observations. I hope they honor the avian family of finches, hawks, hummingbirds, and the visitors to my own backyard.
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