A Day in the Field

May 23, 2026

Back in 2016, several of us Ely family members took a trip to the Smoky Mountains. We stayed in a big cabin with lots of room for cooking, sleeping, and jigsaw-puzzling.

Out back was a big deck with comfy chairs. We sat out there one afternoon, just chatting and commenting about the beautiful birdsongs that we were hearing. One of us had an app that played the songs of different birds, and, before we knew better, we started playing different songs. Our intent was to play a birdsong to see if it matched with something we were hearing.

Again, this was before we knew better. Within a couple of minutes of playing various songs, several birds of different species began dive-bombing our deck, some quite aggressively. They came to us, thinking that we were fellow birds calling them over!

We were unintentionally messing with the birds' natural communication processes. It was hilarious watching us cover our heads as the birds flew at us, then not so funny at all.

Who did we think we were? Were we humans "at the top" of the living beings pyramid, entitled to do what we want in the natural world without any regard for the effects of our actions? Or should we (more accurately I think) see ourselves as embedded in the natural world, humbly holding respect for the rest of nature?

I think about that day as I spend more and more time in the woods and meadows. More often I feel like I am a visitor to a very complex interconnected community of beings that co-exist apart from us humans - plants, animals, water, mosses and fungi. I feel more like a guest than the head honcho.

Yesterday I got to go out to Mingo Creek Park - not too many people there. I hiked along a favorite back trail, taking a few photos along the way. At the intersection with a side trail, one I usually go down, I looked down at the ground and noticed a bear paw print in the fresh mud. Hmmm. Didn't take the time even to take a picture of it, to prove to Larry what I had encountered! I scooted away quietly and quickly.

Again, not my home. I am a guest.

On this outing, I also used a bird app - a different one. Merlin Bird ID was created by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, a research site that has been around since 1915 and is one of the world's premier sites of study of birds and biodiversity. The real deal, in other words.

Unlike the app that we were playing with in 2016, this app is kind of like the Shazam song identifying app that you used to play with years ago where you heard a song you liked, then held your phone up and received the name of the song from Shazam.

So as I walked through the woods, I held my phone aloft with the app on. Lots of birds were singing at the same time, but the app was able to differentiate between the songs.

Who did I hear? American Robins, Blue Jays, Sparrows, Tufted Titmouse, Red-Eyed Vireo, Common Crow, Red-Winged Blackbird, and more. The birds' names were popping up right and left, all at once, so it was hard for me to sort them out - which bird belonged with which song? Practice, and maybe in-the-house study with the old app, may help me learn more.

Unfortunately, most of the birds were way up in the trees where I couldn't easily see them. So more to learn there as well.

An aside - I have a friend who told me she loved to do "naked bird-watching." We were meeting at Mingo Creek for a hike, and I wondered what I would see when she arrived.

Same old friend, fully clothed. Her "naked bird-watching" meant that she tried to identify the birds around her only by their songs. No binoculars, no apps, no bird books. I was in awe! She obviously knows a lot more than I do (at least right now, I tell myself - hope springs eternal).

The other thing I noticed yesterday was that the mushrooms/fungi are arriving. I saw splitgill fungus, tree mushrooms, puffballs, shelf fungi, and many more. I am waiting for morels and red mushrooms. I also saw something that looked very yucky, kind of like red and yellow vomit. I did not take a picture of it - but later found out that it is a slime mold called, believe it or not, "dog vomit slime"!

I learned that from the current featured artist at the Pittsburgh Botanic Garden, Rosalie Haizlett. Her artwork and writing focus on the Appalachian Mountains. She has published a delightful book called "Tiny Worlds of the Appalachia Mountains" in which she documents with stories and watercolors her six month journey through the region with all of its tiny hidden wonders - like dog vomit slime (page 98)!

Rosalie maintains that every day can be a "treasure hunt":

"An ordinary stroll through the neighborhood becomes an opportunity to look for beauty in the familiar... there will always be at least one new detail to delight in...

... Viewing every day as a treasure hunt can also be a powerful way to balance out the harder aspects of life... by paying close attention, by going outside with the intention of noticing something new, it is possible to sit with feelings of grief or discomfort. Healing, hope, and inspiration are all available in the natural world."

Amen.