The White-Eyed Eastern Towhee

I try not to bog myself down with emotional labor. My job already drains my quota of effort daily—checking social media and news outlets for the latest world developments is no easy task. I try to limit my outrage to a select few happenings a day; no use putting the world on my shoulders, right?

Unfortunately, as of late, I’ve found that it is almost impossible to isolate myself from everything plaguing the planet. Walruses are leaping to their deaths, politicians are consolidating power, advertisements are creeping into every corner of our vision, cathedrals are burning to the ground. When consistently bombarded with bad news, how can one not become desperately hopeless?

Go birding.

Yesterday was absolutely devastating; the culmination of bad news local and abroad, personal and public, internal and external made a bad recipe for my mental health. Then, I was visited by a goose during my lunch break. And, luckily, I had some corn with me—perfect for feeding geese. As a friend watched, I joyfully tossed raindrops of corn kernels to the one bird that decided to lag out of curiosity. A plump, cute, little friend. I ran out of corn, bid the goose goodbye, and walked back to my 9-5.

As I was packing up to leave, the same friend asked me to accompany him to a neighborhood to scope out apartments. Yes, of course. Little did I know that our walk was peppered with small chapels, each with their own courtyards. Sanctuaries, with arching, grey, stone walls drowning out the industry of the city. Quiet from all but the fluttering of leaves and chirping sparrows. We stopped at each one, finding solace in the underlying spirit of faith, and looked up to greet the singing birds. The first stop, we saw a cardinal, singing its happy song. Lifted spirits, so to say, by simply hearing its persistent tune.

Then, with a quick flit, I was told to look to the vines climbing up the courtyard walls. What was that bird? Copper tawny on the sides, white belly, black back and head. The size of a robin, but it wasn’t a robin. It was refined, with feathers gracefully fanning into a tapered tail. I knew I downloaded that bird-watching app for a reason. A few swipes of the finger and yes, it was there. The white-eyed, eastern towhee! Magically, just as I identified it, it sang its signature song drink-your-teaaaaa, as if confirming, yes, I am a towhee, let me show you!

Shortly after, we stumbled onto another chapel, where I again opened the app and played a cardinal’s song. Shy birds, cardinals. But, when the male heard my phone, he came within an arm’s reach. A blessing, maybe symbolically. But, a needed one. I know biology shows he was looking for a mate; the call just confused him temporarily. I wasn’t the female he was looking for. But, nonetheless, it was needed.