When Life Gets Heavy, Go Where the Birds Are - March 31, 2026

What do you do when life gets challenging?

You go birding.

Not somewhere far, not somewhere complicated just a local park. A place that asks nothing from you except to show up. Because wildlife is always there, waiting.

After work, I was given a tip from another birder that a Barred Owl had been spotted nearby. That was all I needed. I grabbed my camera and headed out. And I found her.

She was tucked so perfectly into the trees that if you didn’t know where to look, you would walk right past her. Still. Silent. Watching. A small group of people had gathered, all of us standing there in awe.

In that moment, it didn’t feel random. It felt like a message.

The owl reminded me that in times of challenge, clarity doesn’t come from rushing—it comes from stillness. From observation. From trusting that what I need to see will reveal itself when I am ready. She blended so perfectly into the trees, reminding me that not everything important is obvious… and sometimes the answers we’re searching for are already right in front of us.

From there, it was onto the little birds—and what a shift in energy they brought.

Black-capped chickadees bounced from branch to branch, full of life, landing on hands, grabbing seeds, and darting back to safety. Watching them felt like pure joy in motion.

Did you know?

Black-capped Chickadees have a surprisingly complex language. Their famous “chick-a-dee-dee-dee” call actually changes depending on danger, the more “dees” they add, the greater the threat. They’re essentially warning other birds in real time about how serious a predator is.

Even more incredible, chickadees can let other species in on the warning too, creating a kind of shared forest communication system.

And their message felt just as clear. When life gets heavy, don’t forget how to be light.

They reminded me that joy doesn’t require big moments or big changes. It lives in the small things—the quick interactions, the tiny connections, the simple act of being present. Chickadees, despite their size, carry an incredible resilience. They prepare, they adapt, and they continue forward with energy and curiosity.

Then came the female red-breasted nuthatch.

Quick. Agile. Unpredictable.

She twisted and bent in ways that didn’t seem possible, climbing down trees headfirst, landing for a second, then gone again. Her message hit differently. Life will twist you. It will bend you. It will put you in positions you never expected. But you can adapt. You are more flexible than you think.

She didn’t resist the tree, she worked with it. And in that, there was a quiet lesson about surrendering to movement instead of fighting it.

Did you know?

Female Red-breasted Nuthatches can be identified by their softer, more muted coloring, their chest is often a warm golden or buff tone compared to the richer rust-red of males. This subtle difference helps them stay better camouflaged while nesting.

Even more fascinating, female nuthatches help seal the entrance to their nest cavities using sticky resin from trees, leaving just a small opening. This natural “security system” helps protect their eggs from predators and they’re careful not to step in it themselves!

Then I heard it.

The call of my soul bird, the Bald Eagle.

Two circled overhead, and instinctively, we ran to find them. We stepped out of the forest and there it was, perched high above everything.

Watching. Grounded. Powerful. That moment didn’t feel like coincidence. It felt like a reminder of who I am. When life brings challenges, it’s easy to shrink, to feel small, to get pulled into the weight of it all. But the eagle doesn’t do that. The eagle rises. It sees the bigger picture. It doesn’t get lost in the noise below.

And in that moment, I felt it clearly: Rise above this. You are stronger than what you’re going through.

Further into the park, the herons were gathered at the rockery.

Some hidden, some visible.

Did you know?

A heron “rockery” is actually a nesting colony where multiple Great Blue Herons build their nests high up in trees, often returning to the same site year after year. Some rookeries can have dozens of nests, creating a busy, noisy community during breeding season.

Even more fascinating, herons will reuse and add to old nests each season, so over time these nests can become quite large sometimes over a meter wide. What looks like a quiet treetop can actually be a thriving neighborhood of families raising their young together.

And then one male began working, pulling, twisting, breaking a branch for his nest.

From below, I watched him struggle. It wasn’t easy. It took time. Effort. Persistence. And yet, he didn’t stop. Walking a tight rope......aka the branch.

Composure gathered...nothing to look at here...nothing to look at here...

That moment felt deeply familiar. Because sometimes life feels exactly like that, trying to build something, piece by piece, when it doesn’t come easily.

And the heron’s message was simple but powerful: Keep building anyway. Even when it’s hard. Even when no one sees it. Even when it takes longer than you expected.

Then everything slowed again.

A lone lesser scaup drifted across the pond. No urgency. No rush. Just gliding.

Did you know?

Male Lesser Scaup have a striking yellow eye that helps them see clearly underwater while diving for food. They’re diving ducks, which means they don’t just dabble at the surface they fully submerge, sometimes staying underwater for 20–30 seconds as they search for aquatic plants and small invertebrates.

And that glossy black head you saw? In the right light, it can actually shimmer with hints of green or purple like a hidden flash of color that only reveals itself when the angle is just right.

I sat and watched him for several minutes. And it felt like permission. Permission to pause. Permission to not fix everything all at once. Permission to just be. Because not every moment in life is meant for action, some are meant for stillness, for integration, for quiet.

Then came the painted turtles.

At first, one who gave me a very clear “do you mind?” look while sunning on his log. I laughed and moved on.

What do you think he's saying to me? Hahaha.

Then I found a whole group of them piled together, including a tiny baby. Completely unbothered. Completely at ease. Soaking in the sun like nothing else mattered.

Totally unbothered.....enjoying the sun.

Baby turtle wouldn't even look at me. He was too immersed in the sun.

And their message couldn’t have been clearer: Rest is not something you earn. It’s something you need. They weren’t rushing. They weren’t striving. They weren’t worried about what was next. They were simply… resting.

Then came the mallards.

We sat in the sun with a bag of seed, and suddenly they were everywhere, a full flock gathering around us. It felt warm. Connected. Alive.

And in that moment, I was reminded: You are not alone in this life.

Even when things feel isolating, there is connection all around us if we choose to see it, if we choose to sit in it, if we allow ourselves to receive it.

And then, the grand finale.

The peacocks and peahens.

Resting in the ferns…

Until one male stepped forward and opened his feathers in a full display.

Shimmering. Vibrant. Unapologetic. Right in front of me. And it felt like the most direct message of the day: Stop hiding. You are allowed to take up space. You are allowed to be seen. You are allowed to show your full self, even the bold, vibrant, attention-catching parts.

And of course he gave me a full 360! Hahaha.

Did you know?

When a male peacock lifts and fans his tail, he isn’t just showing off his colors, he’s also creating subtle vibrations through the feathers. These tiny shakes produce low-frequency sounds and shimmering light effects that females can both see and feel. The more symmetrical, vibrant, and responsive the display, the more attractive he appears to a potential mate.

It’s not just a visual performance, it’s a full sensory experience.

And just like that, a tiny Anna’s hummingbird zipped in, hovered for a moment, and disappeared again.

A final whisper: This moment is fleeting. Be here now. Before I knew it, two hours had passed.

I sat in my car afterward, replaying everything. Not just what I saw but what I felt.

Because this wasn’t just a birding trip. It was guidance. A reminder that even in challenging times, we are never really alone. Nature is always speaking. We just have to be willing to listen. And sometimes, the answer is simple. When life gets heavy…Go where the wildlife are.