Laura Erickson’s For the Birds

When my kids were junior-high and high school age, way back in the days when we checked out old movies on videotape from the Duluth Public Library, they fell in love with the Billy Wilder film, Some Like It Hot, starring Jack Lemmon, Tony Curtis, and Marilyn Monroe in perhaps her most adorable role. Her character, “Sugar Kane,” is anxious about a looming birthday.

You know, I’m going to be twenty-five in June. That’s a quarter of a century. Makes a girl think.

I’ve thought about that line a lot in recent weeks as my own 75th birthday approached. That’s THREE-quarters of a century! Makes a girl think.

As numbers go, seventy-five is not particularly interesting. It’s not a prime number, a square, or a cube; it’s not on the Fibonacci sequence; and it even falls short on the Music Man’s “Seventy-Six Trombones” standard. There has never been an American coin issued worth 75¢.

I like knowing that 75¢ in American quarters weighs about the same as several small songbirds including American Tree Sparrow, American Goldfinch, and Redpoll. Those three quarters would also balance 2 House Wrens or 4 Ruby-throated Hummingbirds, but not quite 2 chickadees.

The 75th bird on my life list is a delightful one, the American Kestrel, which I first saw on an ornithology class field trip on June 30, 1975. At about 100g—an order of magnitude more than a chickadee—our handsome little falcon may be much heavier than 75¢ in quarters (17g) or nickels (75g), but is considerably lighter than 75¢ in pennies (187g).

The American Kestrel is widespread in the Americas, with 17 different subspecies. eBird differentiates between the Cuban subspecies and northern ones, and there’s a possibility that they may be split one day. The Cuban subspecies comes in two different color forms, and I have photos of both.

But kestrels disapprove of paparazzi. Except when they’re being held at a banding station and have no choice but to submit to photos, they shy away from cameras. The only kestrel I’ve ever photographed who let me take photos for more than a second or two was at Point Reyes in California, sitting on a post at eye level, posing to give me a couple of different angles as I clicked away. That was during my Conservation Big Year in 2013. My #75 bird for that year was the splendid Wood Stork.

Yes indeed, the number 75 does make this girl think. But the three-quarters of a century mark makes me think even harder. Turning 75 means I’ve had 74 previous birthdays. Five years ago, on my 70th, I was seeing a Rufous Hummingbird at my feeder. On my 65th birthday ten years ago, I was in Uganda, seeing 16 lifers, including some pretty wonderful ones, but they were all eclipsed by the Mountain Gorillas I got to see in the Impenetrable Forest. On my 35th birthday in 1986, a pair of Canada Jays turned up in my own backyard. They stayed in the neighborhood for the whole season, but what a thrill—it felt like a great honor—that they first showed up on my birthday.

I don’t know what this birthday will bring, but today marks the halfway point between being 70 and 80, meaning after today, every moment will bring me closer to 80 than 70. Longevity does not seem to be in my genetic makeup, so playing so lightly with the number 75 may seem like whistling past a graveyard, but whistling is fun.

Unlike my little sister, my big brother, my dad, and the two most important adult role models of my life, my Grandpa and Fred Rogers (who both died when they were 74), I am getting the gift of a 75th birthday, and the even greater gift of still being able to plan ahead.

Next time I’ll talk about the three big adventures I’m planning in the next year and a half, and what I’m doing to improve the odds that I’ll be able to thoroughly enjoy them.