When the Mind is Busy, I Go to the Birds - Oct 14, 2025

Lately, my mind has felt like a tangled ball of yarn. Grief still lingers in the background, ever-present, and work stressors have been buzzing around like persistent flies. Life is good — truly — and I’m so grateful to have Finnegan by my side. But inside my head? It’s chaos. Do this. No, do that. Wait—do I even want to do any of it?

When my thoughts start to spiral like this, I’ve learned where to go. I turn to nature. More specifically, I turn to birds. Birding has become my way of slowing the mental storm and finding my center again.

So yesterday evening, with no specific expectations, I scooped up Finn and drove out to a local seaside marina. The weather was crisp, the sun was glowing, and golden leaves were falling all around us. It was perfect for both birding and a little cat adventure.

Did nature provide? Oh boy, it did not disappoint.

The first stop was a small seaside pullout — and it was teeming with crows. Twenty to thirty of them gathered together, a true “murder” (that’s what a group of crows is called).

Did You Know?

At first glance, crows may look simply black, but their feathers are anything but plain. When sunlight hits them just right, their plumage reveals a stunning iridescence — shimmering shades of deep purples, blues, and teals. This glossy effect comes from the microscopic structure of their feathers, which refracts and reflects light, much like a prism. It’s one of nature’s subtle masterpieces, often overlooked unless you take the time to really see them.

Crows are so often overlooked, but to me, they’re underrated beauties. Yes, they look black at first glance, but when you catch them in just the right light, their feathers shimmer with iridescent shades of teal and purple. Photographing that glimmer feels like capturing a secret only the sun and I share.

After Finn had his walk, I headed farther down the road to the marina — and was met with a mecca of wildlife activity.

The Greater Yellowlegs were back! I hadn’t seen them all summer, and suddenly there they were — a whole group of them.

Did You Know?

Greater Yellowlegs return to Victoria’s shorelines in the fall as part of their southward migration. After breeding in the boreal wetlands of northern Canada and Alaska during the summer, they head south to spend the winter in milder climates. Coastal areas like Victoria’s marinas, estuaries, and mudflats provide ideal stopover and feeding sites—rich with small fish, insects, and crustaceans. These reliable food sources give them the energy they need to continue their journey or settle in for the winter months.

Their return each fall is a sign of the changing seasons and the critical role our local shorelines play in supporting migratory birds.

And then — a special surprise! Among the Greater Yellowlegs was a Lesser Yellowlegs, a bird that’s been sitting on my bucket list for ages. This was my very first time spotting one in the wild, and I was so excited. Lesser and Greater Yellowlegs can look almost identical at first glance, but the Lesser is daintier, with a shorter bill and a more delicate build.

Fun fact: Despite their names, both species have equally vibrant, mustard-yellow legs — it’s not the leg color that sets them apart! It’s a bit like birding’s version of a “spot the difference” game.

And then came the kingfisher moment — thanks to my Aunt’s keen eyes! It actually took me a little while to spot him, perched way up on a boat mast. When I finally locked in on him, he was silhouetted perfectly against the setting sun. Even in shadow, I could tell he was a juvenile male — his feathers looked a bit ruffled and disheveled, like he’d just rolled out of bed. I had to laugh. Honestly, I’ve felt a bit disheveled myself lately, so I could completely relate to this scruffy little kingfisher.

Did You Know?

Juvenile Belted Kingfishers often look a little scruffy because they’re still growing into their adult plumage. As they mature, their feathers go through a molting process, replacing their softer, juvenile down with the sleek, waterproof feathers that help them dive for fish. During this stage, they can look adorably “unkempt” — like teenagers caught mid–growth spurt.

And then I heard it — the unmistakable cries of a Great Blue Heron. He swooped in low, right overhead, and landed on a nearby roof. My heart lit up like a lantern. I was as happy as a pig in mud, electricity firing through my body at each sighting.

I settled onto a set of seaside rocks to watch one of the Yellowlegs fish, and she didn’t disappoint — she caught a fish right before my eyes. The longer I sat quietly, the closer the birds came. They moved over to the rocks just a few feet from me.

I leaned back, closed my eyes, tilted my face to the sky, and breathed in the crisp fall air. Behind me, trees blazed with gold and orange. In front of me, the tide gently lapped against the rocks, and birds danced through the fading light.

It was exactly what I needed — a moment to clear my mind and steady my soul.

I can’t express how happy I am to see the birds returning for fall. This is my favorite time of year — when the air is sharp, the light is golden, and wildlife thrives along the shorelines.

Once again, nature didn’t just show up; it embraced me. And for that, I’m deeply grateful.