No, no birding New Year's resolution for me. In fact, I really don't like the concept behind resolutions or the whole process inherent within.
So with that in mind; my 'striking' of any birding resolution just fits me. This is Jim, this is me. I am not you, nor them. "Winging it' ...is just plain old me. Too much planning creates Chaos. I used to plan, and in fact even have blogged on the perils of. I might have dwelled on all possible variables to the situation, which inevitably brought upon a written matrix to guide me to the best possible end result. In the past, as a younger man falling victim to 'what was supposed to be' or to the 'teachings of others', that dang matrix would just drive me nuts. Yes be it written on paper or done on (egads) the digital world of the computer, ....lines and columns and data would be collected or written upon. But I am telling you; Planning creates Chaos. Winging it creates Adventure.
So, no planning, no resolutions. Just pure 'winging' it. The term 'Winging' it' comes from the theater. Oh yes, "the theater, the theater....oh what happened to the theater". Forward to 45 seconds and listen to Danny Kaye.
But as a birder.....winging it at least sounds very appropriate given the subject matter. If I plan and create a resolution as I did in 2017 with birding, I just confuse myself. My birding becomes 'birding with intent' and we all know that if you go looking for something, you shall never find. For instance, have you ever gone looking for a 'Road Runner' and found it? Or a Goshawk? Or just about any bird with the exception of the 'usual'? So when creating a resolution filled of that 'type of bird', I just set myself up for failure. Chaos...is derived from planning.
The year 2022..... Birding. I am just winging it. I have a pair of binoculars to look out the window....I will go birding when I want, when I choose. I will enjoy nature as natural instead of planned. I will hear the crunch of iced snow beneath my feet or feel the sponginess of moss. I will have bitter wind brush against my face or hear the boring yet melancholy call of a mourning dove. Alone or in a group. The sea or the desert or even a mountain might call. Do birds go in the ocean? Any continent might due, yet one. A pure chaotic adventure is the only One I might ever know. Yes, I might bird alone, yet it won't be lonely. Someplace in those last few lines hit upon this below. Anyhow, enjoy 'winging it'.