Martha Steele
The author and her husband. Photograph courtesy of Bob Stymeist.
It is late May and a cool, rainy day in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont. I am listening to the National Public Radio (NPR) show Weekend Edition Sunday. Then, the segment featuring my friend, Jerry Berrier—also blind—and me comes on. The story focuses on our birding passion and was reported by Nancy Cohen, who followed us for three hours on a May morning in Mount Auburn Cemetery. The story was whittled down to three minutes from all the material Cohen captured. One comment that made it into the final story was that I love that I share this passion so deeply with my husband, Bob Stymeist.
Nearly every morning, even in the depths of winter when I do not bird much because there is little to listen for, Bob and I talk about what was seen the day before, or sometimes the hours before, as we are sipping our morning coffee. The sightings may help us decide where to bird that day, lead to discussion on the probability of a specific report, or provoke rueful chuckles over what we missed the day before. But these conversations are always connecting and grounding, a common thread that binds us together for the magical connections with birds and the natural world.
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