As I start writing, I can’t help but notice the publication date: 2-2-22. From my friend, Google, I learned a date when all the numbers are the same happens at least once every decade.

Numbers aren’t the only things that flock together. I’ve also noticed birds lately. When I owned the Old Library, I entertained myself by watching the turkey vultures who landed on the telephone tower every evening. Ugly as they were, they liked each other. Studying them, I wondered if they bragged about their roadkill success of the day.

The seagulls congregated while I enjoyed an outdoor restaurant in Bar Harbor, Maine. It was as if someone called an emergency office meeting—the numbers grew from a dozen to seemingly hundreds. As with the vultures, a large group of gulls perched close together, and others landed a distance away as if they preferred to be a spectator instead of an active participant.

I thought, maybe, like humans, birds are extroverted and introverted.

As I walk in the evenings, I notice small birds of the Arizona desert joining up on the top of street lights. Again, some posts will have five or more birds, and some, only one or two. This week, many dozen singing birds sat in a leafless tree while two or three birds chose to perch quietly in a neighboring tree. Did they want to be included but not involved?

I tend to feel sad for the birds who are all alone, and then I remember introverts prefer being alone—it’s how they regain their energy. Processing the day by themselves, without talking, restores vitality. They make me think of an 1890 era Gibson Girl drawing where the guy offers his hand to a sitting woman and asks, “Shall we talk or dance?” Before she answers, he says, “I’m so tired. Let’s dance.”

The turkey vulture, seagull, or small bird, similar to our Colorado sparrow, is exhausted after flying around and searching for food all day. The extroverted ones need to be around other birds—restoring their energy—proximity, even if they are too tired to visit, helps them thrive.

As humans, we grow more introverted as we get older, which is convenient because life happens. Whatever the reasons, we find ourselves more often alone. Like the birds, I have a comforting daily routine that involves seeing family and friends, but I also look forward to the solitary time. As an extrovert, I love being around other people, but alone time is necessary and appreciated as I get older.

I understand the birds who gather to regain energy but then separate to roost and rest. I also get the introverts who join the group but choose to enjoy the interactions from a distance before flying off together to hunker down for the night.

On this unique calendar date, noticing and appreciating connections to nature can improve our acceptance of ourselves and others.

Until the next time: Live while you live.

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