In honor of Earth Week, last week millions of people around the world decided to put down their remote controls, shut off their laptops and make their way outside.
Today is the final day of Turn-off Week 2009, a worldwide event which lasted from April 20-26 and encouraged people to eliminate screen time in favor of a more rewarding, active life. Championed by the Center for Screen-Time Awareness (CSTA) and supported by national organizations like the American Medical Association, the American Academy of Pediatrics and the National Education Association, Turn-off Week attracted about 5 million participants in the USA alone last year, and now, even though the official week has come to an end, you can (and should) join the movement.
Too much screen-time is physically and mentally unhealthy, but in the United States and many other industrialized countries we keep watching more and more television. The statistics are alarming. According to the CSTA Web site, the average American household has 2.55 people and 2.73 televisions, making us a nation of more television screens than people.
Here are some more interesting facts that may surprise you.
•Number of 30-second commercials seen in a year by an average child: 20,000
•Number of minutes per week that parents spend in meaningful conversation with their children: 38.5
•Number of minutes per week that the average child watches television: 1,680
•Percentage of children ages 6-17 who have TV's in their bedrooms: 50
•Percentage of day care centers that use TV during a typical day: 70
•Hours per year the average American youth spends in school: 900 hours
•Hours per year the average American youth watches television: 1500
•Percentage of Americans that regularly watch television while eating dinner: 66
As a nation, we need to find some balance in our lives. By simply switching off the screens for a bit, we have more time to read, see friends and exercise. You’ll probably find yourself feeling more energetic and more productive.
Why not give it a try? Extend your celebration of Earth Week by making it an every day commitment to appreciate more green with less screens.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
The Goodness of Green: When a little dirt and sunshine is just what the doctor ordered
After months of studying parenting magazines and agonizing over the perfect name, months of wondering what color her hair will be or if she'll have dimples, of daydreaming ahead to her enrollment at an ivy-league school or reception of the Nobel Peace Prize, when the big day comes and our baby finally makes her entrance into the world we are thrilled with the utterly simple: ten fingers, ten toes, and the realization that all that ever really mattered to us was holding a healthy, healthy child.
All parents want what's best for their kids, and after getting over the excitement of ten fingers and ten toes, most do everything in their power to give their children the right resources to learn and grow. Traditionally this has meant setting proper sleep schedules, providing nutritious meals or reading bedtime stories. But for the new, technology-savvy parents of Generation Y, the moms and dads who grew up in the internet-age of constant information, the right resources has come to mean interactive learning tools like Baby Einstein--a line of multimedia products for 3-month-olds to 3-year-olds that were designed to boost cognitive development. Hoping for the happiest, healthiest and brightest children, these parents put their trust in technology.
. .
Yet despite the marketing successes of Baby Einstein and other interactive products, studies overwhelmingly indicate that a new approach is needed. To be clear, the time has come to trade in the screens for a little bit of green.
In the early 1980s, Harvard University biologist Edward Wilson developed a theory of "biophilia," the idea that people have an innate affinity for the natural world. Removed from our natural environment, we face innate feelings of restlessness and alienation which may be detrimental to physical and mental health, and the same holds true for children.
Most of us have probably heard about these studies, about the results which confirm that unstructured outdoor play can improve children's psychological and bodily health by reducing stress, improving concentration and encouraging physical fitness. But did you know that nature actually has viable HEALING powers as well?
During the 1980s and 1990s, a number of studies showed that the mere act of looking at the outdoors can have direct benefits for hospital patients, office workers, prison inmates and car commuters. Indeed, a view of nature was found to help reduce blood pressure, headaches and illnesses, while also leading to greater job satisfaction among workers and quicker recovery rates for post-operative patients. It's not surprising, then, that doctors are increasingly issuing "green prescriptions," advising patients to battle their ailments with some exercise and time outside.
By looking at life through nature, or leaving our apartments and entering into life via nature, we gain a little bit of life ourselves. Just imagine how our kids might benefit.
When it comes to helping our kids love nature, the options are endless and the need is real. Indeed, if you're looking to give them all the resources to grow and learn--to ensure the health you came to love years ago when you first counted those ten fingers and ten toes--a little dirt and sunshine is just be what the doctor ordered.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Just Write It Down
Today's Did You Know fact is a real doozie: There are 851 species of plants native to the Illinois plains. For those of you who thought that prairies were all boring swathes of dun-colored grass, think again: in springtime, the prairies are a veritable riot of color.
A few of the Miss' past journals.
In short, I do everything I can to mark the scene. I'm fully aware that I can't duplicate everything I see, or even come close to it, but it's as if, in the very act of taking time to jot down a rough illustration of the things I've seen, I'm making that much more of an impression on my memory.
And it's true--these journals above are the ones in which I know where everything is. I can tell you that the one on the right, with the life cycle of a butterfly and the curiously tall drawing of a house, also has pasted into it a particularly charming photo of a dog. He's the oldest dog I know to have been adopted from an shelter, and his name is Charlie. (He has four teeth left.) I can tell you that the journal on the right has some really bad attempted illustrations of the Andes and some Amazonian plants from a trip I took to Ecuador.
I'm a writer by trade, so I can do this with some of the other journals I have, which are "illustrated" only with words, but the ones in which I've drawn are the ones that really matter as the materials that reference where, when, I was at a certain point in time. They add such a rich dimension to my memories.
The point is, of course, that, with 851 plants in the Illinois prairie system, and goodness knows how many across our United States--this is a great way to get your family deep into the stuff that makes up your surroundings. Drawing something leads to questions, a conversation, even, and remember, your drawings don't have to be terrific. (Don't be intimidated by gorgeous journals created by professional artists. They are amazing works of art, but every illustrated journal started somewhere, and your kids'--and yours--will have their own unique merits.)
The smooth blue aster is but one of the many flowers that covers Illinois' prairies when spring arrives.
Your Miss is reminded of this fact because I keep somewhat of a loose illustrative journal, and in winter, it dies down to a big fat pile of words, whereas, in spring, summer, and fall, it is, on some pages, just a mess of ink and noise. I paste things in, draw macro illustrations of leaves and flowers, or just of funny patterns that I see on rocks or in the sky. I'm particularly fond of drawing in maps of where I am.
I am not skilled in the least, nor can I work in anything but pencil or pen, since I find carrying around a big clutch of writing utensils to be just too much for my rudimentary skills, but still--I jot it down.
I am not skilled in the least, nor can I work in anything but pencil or pen, since I find carrying around a big clutch of writing utensils to be just too much for my rudimentary skills, but still--I jot it down.
A few of the Miss' past journals.In short, I do everything I can to mark the scene. I'm fully aware that I can't duplicate everything I see, or even come close to it, but it's as if, in the very act of taking time to jot down a rough illustration of the things I've seen, I'm making that much more of an impression on my memory.
And it's true--these journals above are the ones in which I know where everything is. I can tell you that the one on the right, with the life cycle of a butterfly and the curiously tall drawing of a house, also has pasted into it a particularly charming photo of a dog. He's the oldest dog I know to have been adopted from an shelter, and his name is Charlie. (He has four teeth left.) I can tell you that the journal on the right has some really bad attempted illustrations of the Andes and some Amazonian plants from a trip I took to Ecuador.
I'm a writer by trade, so I can do this with some of the other journals I have, which are "illustrated" only with words, but the ones in which I've drawn are the ones that really matter as the materials that reference where, when, I was at a certain point in time. They add such a rich dimension to my memories.
The point is, of course, that, with 851 plants in the Illinois prairie system, and goodness knows how many across our United States--this is a great way to get your family deep into the stuff that makes up your surroundings. Drawing something leads to questions, a conversation, even, and remember, your drawings don't have to be terrific. (Don't be intimidated by gorgeous journals created by professional artists. They are amazing works of art, but every illustrated journal started somewhere, and your kids'--and yours--will have their own unique merits.)
This journal, from graphic designer Gay Kraeger, is something your Miss aspires to on a regular basis, but alas, she cannot draw birds. Or work in watercolor. Or do pretty lettering. Oh, well. (Journal copyright Gay Kraeger.)
Don't pluck anything out of the ground with the intention of pasting it into your book because you're frustrated that you can't reproduce it exactly on your page. When flowers and leaves dry, they don't look anything like they did when they were green and thriving, and anyway, your sketches will help you to remember what they looked like. (This advice comes from the heart. When I was much younger, I plucked things out and pasted them in with impunity, and all I'm left with is some loose scotch tape and some faint plant imprints.)
Do, however, encourage rubbings. Lay a page of your book over a rock or a leaf, or anything with texture, and use the flat side of a pencil or a crayon to rub over the page. You'll have a nice, unique memory of the way something looks like it feels--and that's just as nice, if not better than, having pebbles pasted into a book.
A leaf rubbing. When you're done, have your kids put the leaf back so that someone else can enjoy it.
You can get fairly inexpensive, recycled-stock bound books at any stationer or art store. Get something with a hard back, so you can hold it in your hand and doodle whatever you see in front of you. I like the Moleskine books, which are in the middle price range (although not of recycled stock) and come in a selection of sizes and styles. Invest in some good pencils and some nice erasers, find something pretty to look at, and draw away. Just a quick sketch will imprint the scene in your brain, at least until you see something else to draw--but then you will have something to look back on: Just turn back a page.
Don't pluck anything out of the ground with the intention of pasting it into your book because you're frustrated that you can't reproduce it exactly on your page. When flowers and leaves dry, they don't look anything like they did when they were green and thriving, and anyway, your sketches will help you to remember what they looked like. (This advice comes from the heart. When I was much younger, I plucked things out and pasted them in with impunity, and all I'm left with is some loose scotch tape and some faint plant imprints.)
Do, however, encourage rubbings. Lay a page of your book over a rock or a leaf, or anything with texture, and use the flat side of a pencil or a crayon to rub over the page. You'll have a nice, unique memory of the way something looks like it feels--and that's just as nice, if not better than, having pebbles pasted into a book.
A leaf rubbing. When you're done, have your kids put the leaf back so that someone else can enjoy it. You can get fairly inexpensive, recycled-stock bound books at any stationer or art store. Get something with a hard back, so you can hold it in your hand and doodle whatever you see in front of you. I like the Moleskine books, which are in the middle price range (although not of recycled stock) and come in a selection of sizes and styles. Invest in some good pencils and some nice erasers, find something pretty to look at, and draw away. Just a quick sketch will imprint the scene in your brain, at least until you see something else to draw--but then you will have something to look back on: Just turn back a page.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Say "Tata" to gas-guzzlers?
It's News Monday again, and we must confess to being a little slow on the uptake. However, your Miss has an excuse. She's been wrestling with just how to handle this wee little bit of news (and it is wee). In fact, it's so wee that you could probably fit all of it into a Mini Cooper.
Yes, we're talking cars here on the Green Sugar 'Blog today. Specifically, we're talking about the Tata Nano, a 30-horsepower, 52 miles-per-gallon critter that is only available in India and which only costs the equivalent of $3200. It's a sweet little beast that performs best where the traffic is slow and the streets are perpetually crowded. Still, it's got us thinking about the way we travel. The Nano only goes up to 45 miles per hour, which is great for city streets, but wouldn't do so well on our superhighways.
Yes, we're talking cars here on the Green Sugar 'Blog today. Specifically, we're talking about the Tata Nano, a 30-horsepower, 52 miles-per-gallon critter that is only available in India and which only costs the equivalent of $3200. It's a sweet little beast that performs best where the traffic is slow and the streets are perpetually crowded. Still, it's got us thinking about the way we travel. The Nano only goes up to 45 miles per hour, which is great for city streets, but wouldn't do so well on our superhighways.
It's cute! It's orange! It's...a car?!
Although I'm already smitten with the Nano's friendly shape and, okay, yes, the idea of a car that uses such a small amount of gasoline and is still large enough to lug around a weeks' worth of groceries, there is something else that is stopping me from fully appreciating the net worth of this addition to the automotive world: It's an addition to the automotive world.
Look, I'm not knocking the Nano itself. I'm really more frustrated with the idea that there are so many people out there who think it's OK to drive the mile to the grocery store. (Your Miss grew up in Southern California. She knows from too much driving.)
The thing is, millions of people in almost every major American city get by without cars. They either walk to the grocery store, pulling along a cart for the food haul if it's going to be a big one, or they get on that most wonderful of creations, the bicycle, for their short-haul trips to the many destinations that make up our lives: the post office, a visit to a friend, picking up something at the drug store.
I'm fully aware that many of us don't live in areas that allow for safe bicycle riding, or safe walking, even. And for those of us with kids, well, it often can feel like an added annoyance to bundle your child into his own bicycle, or, if the kid's young enough, to strap them into the Baby Bjorn, adding another 25 pounds to your own weight, before you head to the grocery store to ballast yourself with 15 pounds of groceries.
But the payoffs are multiple: You get a little exercise. Your child gets outside. Maybe you get to see part of the neighborhood you never discovered before, and from street-level, instead of SUV-level. Perhaps you'll even find it in you to lobby your local representative for better infrastructure all around, so that when your kids are old enough, they can safely hop on their own bikes, help you with the groceries.
The world doesn't need another car. Our immediate world, these United States, needs a better way for folks to get around. The incentives are already there.
Your Miss has one more confession to make before she leaves you until Did You Know? Thursday. I'm missing my own commuter bike, a sweet little mountain bike that's been with me to New York, California and Colorado, terribly. It was poached from our house by someone who I hope will use it to cut down on their own driving. Mmmhmmm. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
Look, I'm not knocking the Nano itself. I'm really more frustrated with the idea that there are so many people out there who think it's OK to drive the mile to the grocery store. (Your Miss grew up in Southern California. She knows from too much driving.)
The area covered by this map, which covers the Miss' home town of Claremont, CA, is maybe 10 square miles. That's a lot of car dealerships!
The thing is, millions of people in almost every major American city get by without cars. They either walk to the grocery store, pulling along a cart for the food haul if it's going to be a big one, or they get on that most wonderful of creations, the bicycle, for their short-haul trips to the many destinations that make up our lives: the post office, a visit to a friend, picking up something at the drug store.
I'm fully aware that many of us don't live in areas that allow for safe bicycle riding, or safe walking, even. And for those of us with kids, well, it often can feel like an added annoyance to bundle your child into his own bicycle, or, if the kid's young enough, to strap them into the Baby Bjorn, adding another 25 pounds to your own weight, before you head to the grocery store to ballast yourself with 15 pounds of groceries.
But the payoffs are multiple: You get a little exercise. Your child gets outside. Maybe you get to see part of the neighborhood you never discovered before, and from street-level, instead of SUV-level. Perhaps you'll even find it in you to lobby your local representative for better infrastructure all around, so that when your kids are old enough, they can safely hop on their own bikes, help you with the groceries.
The world doesn't need another car. Our immediate world, these United States, needs a better way for folks to get around. The incentives are already there.
Your Miss has one more confession to make before she leaves you until Did You Know? Thursday. I'm missing my own commuter bike, a sweet little mountain bike that's been with me to New York, California and Colorado, terribly. It was poached from our house by someone who I hope will use it to cut down on their own driving. Mmmhmmm. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
A Little Raccoon Story
This week, for Did You Know? Thursday, we'll be exploring a little something called the raccoon.
We've all seen them: those incredibly intelligent-looking eyes; the very human habit of washing their food before they eat it; and those curiously adept paws. Almost no one I know can look at a raccoon picture without making an "Awwwww!" noise so enthralled, you'd think the raccoon came with a laugh track.
But we're not here to make you make noises. We're here to shed a little light on nature. Today's Did You Know? fact is on etymology: The raccoon's name comes from the Algonquin name for raccons, ahrah-koon-em. It means, literally, the one who rubs, scrubs, and scratches with his hands.
This makes sense, after all. Raccoons do almost everything with their front paws. And when you see them "washing" their food in the water? Well, it's been posited that that's another way for the raccoon to "see" its food, get a better sense of what shape it is, what kind of texture it is, much as a dog feels with his mouth, or we humans feel with our own hands.
Your sense of smell is the strongest of all of your senses, believe it or not. Think about it: Don't you have great memories built entirely around smells from when you were a kid? Now's a great chance to give your child some memories that go way beyond what he or she sees.
One great way to do this is to take your child on a night-time walk in a park, or on a walk in the woods.
Pick a night with a full moon, stick to well-marked, clear paths, and enjoy the show. Keep it short, so no one gets scared--but turn out the flashlights, let everyone's night vision adjust, and just see what you can hear, sense, experience. No pun intended.
You'll find that there's a lot more to nature than you might have thought.
The last time your Miss did this, she spotted a raccoon sitting in the lower branches of a tree, looking right back at her.
We've all seen them: those incredibly intelligent-looking eyes; the very human habit of washing their food before they eat it; and those curiously adept paws. Almost no one I know can look at a raccoon picture without making an "Awwwww!" noise so enthralled, you'd think the raccoon came with a laugh track.
But we're not here to make you make noises. We're here to shed a little light on nature. Today's Did You Know? fact is on etymology: The raccoon's name comes from the Algonquin name for raccons, ahrah-koon-em. It means, literally, the one who rubs, scrubs, and scratches with his hands.
This makes sense, after all. Raccoons do almost everything with their front paws. And when you see them "washing" their food in the water? Well, it's been posited that that's another way for the raccoon to "see" its food, get a better sense of what shape it is, what kind of texture it is, much as a dog feels with his mouth, or we humans feel with our own hands.
Those dexterous paws! [Photo courtesy of alasam's flickr stream.]
So. Yes, we're happy we got to post cute photos, but what's the point? Well, all animals sense things in their own ways. You might think that we humans appreciate nature primarily by sight, but now that things are blooming and so much is happening around us, it's a good idea to exercise your other senses.Your sense of smell is the strongest of all of your senses, believe it or not. Think about it: Don't you have great memories built entirely around smells from when you were a kid? Now's a great chance to give your child some memories that go way beyond what he or she sees.
One great way to do this is to take your child on a night-time walk in a park, or on a walk in the woods.
Pick a night with a full moon, stick to well-marked, clear paths, and enjoy the show. Keep it short, so no one gets scared--but turn out the flashlights, let everyone's night vision adjust, and just see what you can hear, sense, experience. No pun intended.
You'll find that there's a lot more to nature than you might have thought.
The last time your Miss did this, she spotted a raccoon sitting in the lower branches of a tree, looking right back at her.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Eating Our Way Through News Monday
Today, I'd like to dedicate the Monday news 'blog to the all-important subject of eating.
Consider it: This week alone your Miss found articles on the First Lady, writers, kids, and farmers, and they were all linked by one big subject: Food, and the way we consume it. Everyone from the White House down is concerned with what we're putting in our mouths, and that's a good thing. But then I found an article titled, "Eating Food That's Better for You, Organic or Not." (Link is below.) It was long, and it took me the better part of a cup of coffee to work through.
The article discusses the shortcomings of the organic label in the United States, and how confusing it can be to try and remedy that confusion while still letting "organic" mean something to the general consumer. It tackles the fact that organic food is still out of the price range of many supermarket shoppers, and it made the very important point that organic doesn't necessarily mean "good for you." And, then, finally, at long, long last, it talked about the concept of local food, but only then to make the point that "organic" doesn't mean "local."
I thought, geez, if it takes one adult human fifteen minutes to read through an article that basically only presents that problems with organic, kids must be totally frustrated.
Here's a solution: Go local first, organic second. In the first place, if we're all about getting back to food the way it's meant to be grown and consumed, doesn't it make sense to also consider what's natural for the land, and growing cycles? And in the second place, kids can learn about the very nebulous idea of organic in a super-tangible way: by looking at what grows best in their own backyard.
I speak figuratively, of course: In my household, we order from a CSA group. CSA stands for "community-supported agriculture," and while it's nice to know that we're supporting local businesses by buying from farms nearby, it's also wonderful that we're getting food that wants to be grown near us, as opposed to being force-grown, in a greenhouse, or in a different state, or country. I like the idea that I'm getting, for instance, root vegetables and dark, leafy greens in the winter, as opposed to delicate romaine lettuces that have no business surviving a hard winter, and endive that had to be shipped in from Mexico.
Find out what the folks who lived here so long ago, before there were trucking lines and airplanes, lived on. Take a look at our history, learn from it. And, this winter, when the ground is hard and frost covers your window, cook up a parsnip. And when it's hot and sticky in the summer, find an eggplant, saute it with some cherry tomatoes. Your kids will find out right fast: It was meant to grow in the season you're buying it, it'll taste miles better, and it won't have traveled miles to get to you.
Read the article I did at the New York Times.
Consider it: This week alone your Miss found articles on the First Lady, writers, kids, and farmers, and they were all linked by one big subject: Food, and the way we consume it. Everyone from the White House down is concerned with what we're putting in our mouths, and that's a good thing. But then I found an article titled, "Eating Food That's Better for You, Organic or Not." (Link is below.) It was long, and it took me the better part of a cup of coffee to work through.
The article discusses the shortcomings of the organic label in the United States, and how confusing it can be to try and remedy that confusion while still letting "organic" mean something to the general consumer. It tackles the fact that organic food is still out of the price range of many supermarket shoppers, and it made the very important point that organic doesn't necessarily mean "good for you." And, then, finally, at long, long last, it talked about the concept of local food, but only then to make the point that "organic" doesn't mean "local."
I thought, geez, if it takes one adult human fifteen minutes to read through an article that basically only presents that problems with organic, kids must be totally frustrated.
Here's a solution: Go local first, organic second. In the first place, if we're all about getting back to food the way it's meant to be grown and consumed, doesn't it make sense to also consider what's natural for the land, and growing cycles? And in the second place, kids can learn about the very nebulous idea of organic in a super-tangible way: by looking at what grows best in their own backyard.
I speak figuratively, of course: In my household, we order from a CSA group. CSA stands for "community-supported agriculture," and while it's nice to know that we're supporting local businesses by buying from farms nearby, it's also wonderful that we're getting food that wants to be grown near us, as opposed to being force-grown, in a greenhouse, or in a different state, or country. I like the idea that I'm getting, for instance, root vegetables and dark, leafy greens in the winter, as opposed to delicate romaine lettuces that have no business surviving a hard winter, and endive that had to be shipped in from Mexico.
These are vegetables that belong in winter.
These are vegetables that don't.
Eating organic is something to aspire to, and something every kid should know about at some point, for sure. But this is a great opportunity to teach them about their immediate surroundings, and teach them what belongs there--naturally. (Your Miss is reminded of the unfortunate day she found out that her assistant, who'd grown up in New York City, had no idea what a chickadee looks like. New York City, of course, is a major birding mecca.)
This is a Chickadee. Now you know, too.
Find out what the folks who lived here so long ago, before there were trucking lines and airplanes, lived on. Take a look at our history, learn from it. And, this winter, when the ground is hard and frost covers your window, cook up a parsnip. And when it's hot and sticky in the summer, find an eggplant, saute it with some cherry tomatoes. Your kids will find out right fast: It was meant to grow in the season you're buying it, it'll taste miles better, and it won't have traveled miles to get to you.
Read the article I did at the New York Times.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
I Know Why the Migratory Bird Sings
...with apologies to Miss Toni Morrissey, I find non-caged birds to be ever so much more interesting than caged birds.
Today's 'blog post marks our first-ever Did You Know Thursday, and we'll learn something astonishing about some pretty impressive winged beasties.
When your Miss started work at Audubon magazine, years and years ago, she thought "birders" were little old ladies who stood outside staring up at trees. More likely than not, I thought, they used binoculars because they just couldn't see without them.
But then I started work there. And I realized that birding, as it was called, was a darned fine activity. You got outside; you got to learn something about the world around you, and if you were really cool, like an acquaintance of ours named Kenn Kaufman, you could do really cool, slightly sexy party tricks, like naming a bird from just one note of its song, without even blinking an eye or even looking at it.
Anyway, here's your fact of the day:
Purple martins, a species of bird, have been known to fly an average of 358 miles per day over 13 days during spring migration from Brazil to Pennsylvania.
I think about this bird particularly because it's an early migrater, and, here in Chicago, we sit smack in the middle of the Mississippi Migratory Flyway (below).
Now, while the purple martin does not specifically follow our migratory flyway, some other very impressive birds do: The American Golden Plover, for instance, flies over 50 hours straight--that's no sleep!--over 3000 miles, to get to where it needs to go. And the Eastern Kingfisher, a feisty little critter, summers in our area, starting its migration from South American in mid-April. (In fact, the Eastern Kingfisher is such a cranky bird that its scientific name is tyrannus tyrannus.)
So now that we've given you a sampling of some of the great birds you can find out there--and the amazing things they can do--feel free to share some of the knowledge with some young people. I don't think an entire generation of kids who think that birding's, well, for the birds would do anyone any good.
Here are some great birding resources to get you started:
Audubon's Great Backyard Bird Count
Cornell University's All About Birds
Today's 'blog post marks our first-ever Did You Know Thursday, and we'll learn something astonishing about some pretty impressive winged beasties.
When your Miss started work at Audubon magazine, years and years ago, she thought "birders" were little old ladies who stood outside staring up at trees. More likely than not, I thought, they used binoculars because they just couldn't see without them.
But then I started work there. And I realized that birding, as it was called, was a darned fine activity. You got outside; you got to learn something about the world around you, and if you were really cool, like an acquaintance of ours named Kenn Kaufman, you could do really cool, slightly sexy party tricks, like naming a bird from just one note of its song, without even blinking an eye or even looking at it.
Anyway, here's your fact of the day:
Purple martins, a species of bird, have been known to fly an average of 358 miles per day over 13 days during spring migration from Brazil to Pennsylvania.
I think about this bird particularly because it's an early migrater, and, here in Chicago, we sit smack in the middle of the Mississippi Migratory Flyway (below).
Now, while the purple martin does not specifically follow our migratory flyway, some other very impressive birds do: The American Golden Plover, for instance, flies over 50 hours straight--that's no sleep!--over 3000 miles, to get to where it needs to go. And the Eastern Kingfisher, a feisty little critter, summers in our area, starting its migration from South American in mid-April. (In fact, the Eastern Kingfisher is such a cranky bird that its scientific name is tyrannus tyrannus.)
Eastern Kingfisher. Cranky-pants.
So now that we've given you a sampling of some of the great birds you can find out there--and the amazing things they can do--feel free to share some of the knowledge with some young people. I don't think an entire generation of kids who think that birding's, well, for the birds would do anyone any good.
Here are some great birding resources to get you started:
Audubon's Great Backyard Bird Count
Cornell University's All About Birds
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