
                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SATURDAY, May 19, 1990                   TAG: 9005210202
SECTION: EDITORIAL                    PAGE: A-11   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: MONTY S. LEITCH
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

BOBBING TAIL A GIVEAWAY/ HELP NEEDED TO SEE PHOEBE

FOR THE PAST two weeks I've been away from home, sitting most every morning in an office carved out of one wing of an old dairy barn. Here I've been writing a little bit and watching the birds a lot.

My view includes two small outbuildings, the back of another wing of the barn, a fence row overgrown with sumac, and some brushy weeds that attract bumblebees, robins and phoebes.

Before last week I didn't know what a phoebe was. One morning I saw this bird zipping over the grass and stopping in mid-flight, beating its wings valiantly to keep itself above ground. Zip, stall, zip, stall. From the barn's back wall to the outbuilding, then back to the barn. I knew what it wasn't - it wasn't a hummingbird; much too big - but I didn't know what it was.

So I asked around. "There's this bird, see," I started with anyone who would listen. The eyes of my listeners glazed over. People shrugged their shoulders and shook their heads. "Could be almost anything, from that description," they said.

Then I happened to ask "birder" in the group, and her eyes began to light up. Next thing I knew, she was prowling around outside my office window with her binoculars and her field guide. "Your bird's a phoebe," she announced. "You can tell by the bobbing tail."

I'd been so busy watching the mid-air stalls that I hadn't noticed the tail-bobbing; I think I never would have noticed if she hadn't pointed it out. When the phoebe's perched on the side of one of the outbuildings, or sitting on the weeds, his tail bobs up and down as vigorously as his wings beat to suspend his flight. "Note tail-bobbing," the field guide says.

It's easy to gaze out the window distractedly, or to look around while you're strolling. It's easy to see something and say, "There are birds, there are weeds, there's a bush covered with white flowers." But naming these things - and getting the right names for them - requires a fine attention to detail, a patience in observation, and an unwillingness to settle for identification by whatever first catches the eyes. Does the bird's tail bob, for instance? What color is its beak? Are the flowers on that bush five-petaled? Are they really white, or yellow? What shapes are their stamens? Do they have a smell?

I struggle most with these good pieces of advice: Don't judge a book by its cover. Don't rely on first impressions. If you want to know another person, first walk a mile in their shoes.

The phoebe is merrily darting around outside this morning. I take great pride in watching him because I now know his name. But here's what I must remember: I may have spotted him on my own, but I needed somebody else to teach me how to see him.

by CNB