Backyard Ethology

For three decades now I have observed the local wildlife—in the woods, at the bird feeder, in the garden, and at any other nearby wilderness spot where nature's critters cavort. I have come to know and understand who they are and what they're doing, to a far greater degree than when I first moved to this rural retreat. I have learned much, but also understand that I've only begun to scratch the surface of fully appreciating my wildlife community.

There are two principle ways by which I've studied the local fauna: reading what scholars have written and through simple observation. I can gain much knowledge through surfing on the internet, and I have acquired a good-sized library of books on wildlife. They've helped me identify and learn a lot.

When I observe wildlife directly, I practice a form of ethology: the science of animal behavior—the whys and wherefores of their conduct and actions. An intimate understanding of their behavior comes from extended periods of observation—simply watching, while constantly questioning what is going on. It is crucial to keep an open mind, because so much can be missed if you decide too soon that you know what their actions are about, and thus close your mind to going any deeper. We humans have a propensity to anthropomorphize: attributing human behavior and characteristics to the animals. Even numerous scientists have made this mistake.

One of my champion ethologists is Jane Goodall, who spent decades patiently observing the behavior of chimpanzees in Africa. In her early years many esteemed zoologists rejected her conclusions about chimps' behaviors, but her keen observations gradually earned her an honored reputation and changed our comprehension of chimp culture.

As for what's going on with my local critters, I can get only so much from a book or Wikipedia. When I observe the particular behavior of a particular bird, it may be a general behavior of that species that I'm seeing, but it may also simply be how that individual has come to behave in my backyard. It is a unique being. The thing it is doing is unique. No other bird in the world is doing precisely what it is doing.

So I watch... and watch. What's going on? Can I be certain of what I perceive? Is it typical of this species I'm observing? Have I seen this particular bird do this before? What could be the reason for this behavior? The bird can't explain itself to me, so the keener my observation, the deeper I delve into its world. With understanding comes appreciation, awe, reverence... even love. The natural world possesses beauty beyond explanation. Give me three more lifetimes of sharp-eyed study and I'd still find myself a beginner.