When I first pitched my idea for a birding column to the editors at the Arizona Republic 13 years ago, my motivational stream of consciousness ran something like this—I enjoy reading about birds and seeing photos of them, other birders probably would too, maybe those who know nothing about birds and birding would be enlightened enough to begin to care, and caring is the first step toward preservation.  I suppose this would constitute a mission statement, although at the time I didn’t think of it as such.

All went well for a few years, but when the Great Recession hit and the Arizona Republic downsized, the Environmental Page was one of the first casualties and “Bird Is a Verb” went away with it.  I was never told it was the proverbial “business decision,” but obviously it was, and it was perfectly understandable unless you were a reader who happened to care about the environment.  Our decision, in response to the loss of exposure in the Repulic, was to create a webpage as a vehicle for “Bird Is a Verb.”

If you’ve followed the column on our web page, we hope its migration seemed seamless and it was all good--http://jimburnsphotos.com/pages/columns.html—but of course something very important had changed.  Those who knew nothing about birds and birding no longer had access to the column and no way of knowing about the website.  Since then, at least in my own mind, I’ve been preaching to the choir, and I’ve always prefaced that thought with words like “just” or “only,” and said it with some resignation.

Until last month that is, when I read an Easy Chair piece by Rebecca Solnit in Harper’s.  Solnit is optimistic about our species and the planet we call home even now as the sounds of gnashing teeth and wringing hands have become audible again.  Solnit acknowledges that “preaching to the choir . . . implies the task is to go out and convert the heathens, that talking to those with whom we agree achieves nothing.”  Relating this in a general way to today’s politics, but speaking specifically about real life preachers and choirs, she goes on to debunk this idea and suggests “to win politically, you don’t need to win over people who differ from you.  You need to motivate your own.”

Since just preaching to the choir is the one thing which has tempted me to discontinue “Bird Is a Verb,” I feel better already.  I am passionate about nature and the environment, and Solnit has freed me from worrying about deluding myself that anyone who isn’t, gives a rip about what I think.  For me the most resonant sentence in Solnit’s piece was this:  “Rather than meet people where they are, you can locate yourself someplace they will eventually want to be.”  The signature line in Troy Corman’s emails rings in my ears—“Hope to see you in the field.”

My response to the gnashing and wringing has always been to get out into the field to discover new and amazing things which I have never encountered, and to try to capture images of them which will inspire readers (you’re reading this, so I assume you’re part of the choir) to want to be in the field too.  The six images accompanying this column are from the “Family Jewels” file.  I hope this column and these images “galvanize” (Solnit’s word) you.  If so, here are a few things, in random order of effort and importance, I’d like you to consider doing—perhaps a New Year’s resolution lurks somewhere in this list:

Find something Rebecca Solnit has written and read it.

Vote.  In every election, especially mid-terms.

Pass this column along to someone who enjoys birds but doesn’t know about our website.

Volunteer to help (the next step after joining) a group with people who enjoy what you enjoy and think like you do--maybe your local Audubon group, the Sierra Club, or even something more specifically political like AZblue2020.

Take a non-birding friend out birding with you.