Wood Duck

The ethics of learning and teaching

Original photograph by Jim Leonard, design by Wietske Merison

In isolation, it is easy to start feeling like a genius. None of my close friends are particularly interested in bird watching, so it didn’t take much learning for me to be crowned the queen of the birds. I have become familiar with the birds I see on a daily basis and know all of my feathered backyard friends by name. It is easy to assume you know it all, when in reality, you simply don’t know enough to know what you do not know.

I was excited to join a birding walk after a long time of birding in isolation. Armed with my newly gained knowledge and my very own pair of binoculars, I was looking forward to joining my first intermediate bird-watching event, having graduated myself from the beginner’s level. But to my disappointment, it turned out that in this group, it was not particularly impressive to be able to recognize a Cardinal or an American Robin. Not even a minute in, several birders were debating about the identification of birds that I had failed to even see or hear. A sense of shame welled up. A clearly more professional birder stood next to me, skillfully gazing through her binoculars under her Turkey Vulture cap. “I don’t think I’m quite an intermediate birder yet,” I confided in her, “I can’t even find this Eastern Toffee.” She looked at me as her eyes sparkled with joy and asked, “You mean the Eastern Towee?” The group turned around and we all laughed together. Right in that moment, my shame turned to joy. The pressure of feigned expertise slid off my shoulders, and I stood in the shoes of a student once more. They fit my feet like none other.

The birders in the group were majorly impressive. Some had been birding for thirty or forty years and had grown up in this area. They knew the park and nesting sites by heart and were able to comment on recent fluctuations in bird populations and behavior. Lori, with her Turkey Vulture cap, was one of them. But she was not only an expert - she was a teacher. Every time she found an interesting bird, she would check on me to make sure I had also been able to find it. She shared details with me about the birds we saw and quizzed me on their names so I could remember them.

After about an hour of birdwatching, we stopped in a wooded area. The group was discussing a Wood Thrush they heard but couldn’t find. I was, as always, looking in the wrong direction. But there, in the wrong direction, I saw something. Could it be… a Duck, high up in the tree? ‘No, that would be silly,’ I told myself, ‘they will laugh at me if I say there’s a duck in the trees.’ It took me a moment to get over my ego and share my finding: “I think… I see a Duck in that tree?” Of course, they laughed. “Are you sure it’s not an Eastern Toffee?”

Lori had also smiled, but had immediately come my way to help me identify the bird. “Well guys,” she said, “she’s actually right! It’s a female Wood Duck!” The crowd got excited and circled around me, asking me where I’d seen her. And just at that moment, the male Wood Duck joined his partner. The pair were a beautiful sight to behold. The male Duck’s brightly lined feathers provided a stark contrast against the forest, whereas the female’s feathers blended in perfectly with the bark. They just sat there, proudly, on their branch. Once endangered, Wood Ducks have made a comeback since hunting them has become more regulated, and more of their habitat has been restored and protected. For many of us, it was our first time ever seeing them up in the trees, where they nest.

As the event came to an end, we were discussing the many birds we saw. Unanimously, we voted the Wood Ducks to be our most exciting find of the day. Lori initiated applause for me since I had spotted them. What a teacher, she was. Not only had she made me feel comfortable enough to feel like I could share my questionable findings, but she took me seriously and identified the female Duck even before her much more recognizable partner had joined her. She clearly was the one deserving of that applause, but somehow, the fact that she had instead initiated applause for me made her even more applaudable.

True knowledge is never a source of pride, but rather a source of humility. The blessing of knowledge may lead to either one of two responses, like any other blessings we may be given in our lifetimes: gratitude or greed. It’s easy to feel like we owe the knowledge we find along the paths of our lives to our own hard work and learning. Partly, that’s true. But in full reality, the fact that we have been granted the willpower, ability, and time to work and study is nothing but a gift - a blessing. The fact that we have eyes to read, ears to hear, and tongues to speak is a blessing. The fact that our brains are able to process and remember is a blessing. The fact that we have been blessed with teachers, human and non-human, pleasant and unpleasant, all sent by the Teacher of all, is a blessing. How silly, then, is the one who tries to claim their knowledge as something that belongs to them alone and is the fruit only of their hard work? How silly is the one who dams the river of knowledge to turn it into a private lake, commercializing the water they have no claim to? The greedy Duck chases others away from his pond, but the grateful Duck teaches others how to swim.

After the event was over, Lori asked me if I wanted to do some more birding, and I happily said yes. She taught me the song of the Eastern Towee (“drink your tea-ea-ea-ea”) and many others and shared some epic birding stories. When we finally parted ways, I thanked her for the wonderful day, and she told me to keep up the birding.

That day, I learned so much more than the names of a few new birds. I found a genuine sense of humility again as I was reminded of all that I do not know. Lori taught me about the ethics of learning and teaching, simply by embodying gratitude instead of greed. The Wood Duck now has become my reminder of humility. And I will always smile when I hear the song of an Eastern Toffee.