When a soil feels like home
The Black Phoebe is the first bird whose personality I really got to know. She taught me the joys of studying and noticing bird behavior, a way of being in nature that goes beyond identification and categorization.
My husband and I started birding during the pandemic. We lived in a condo at the time, both working from home (me teaching online class from our closet, him from the kitchen table). During those repetitive and uncertain days, we, like so many, found solace in observing the birds around us.
In the afternoons, we would walk along a nearby trail that followed a fence line surrounding an agricultural field on one side and a creek on the other. We consistently came across a Black Phoebe. She would come on walks with us, perching on a fencepost, then flying up a few posts ahead as we made our way down the trail. We would walk the path together this way, fencepost by fencepost. After many such walks, I learned to appreciate her personality. It felt like I'd made a friend.
Some 8 years earlier I made a different kind of friend - a soil who would become an important part of my life, though I didn't know it at the time. I first observed this soil in a field description course I took as an undergraduate. The profile was the most memorable one we would describe with its charismatic black and white color pattern. In the years since, I have revisited this soil countless times. When I was in graduate school, I would stop by just to say hello whenever I was in town. Now, I bring students on field trips to describe this soil. On several occasions, I've even brought a camera crew out to film soils-related content there. Every time I visit, I am reminded of the curiosity and wonder that led me to become a soil scientist. With each visit, I am comforted by the familiarity of those soil horizons. This is the first soil I really got to know, my first soil friend.
We learn a lot about a soil in our first interaction, but our relationships with soils benefit from time. When we return to the same places, we see soils in new ways. We observe a different season, distinct weather conditions, or interesting lighting. As time passes, the soil changes, peds shift, and perhaps some even erodes away. We can't observe the same soil profile twice, but we can come to know a soil over time.
I've been on a lifelong search for place, perhaps because I grew up untethered to a hometown, city, or ecoregion. We moved around every few years when I was a child and I never set down roots. Maybe that was part of what drew me to soil science all those years ago. Soils create the physicality of a place. The friends I make in nature - soils, plants, wildlife, lichen - help me feel connected to place and time.
I find it especially lovely that my favorite local soil and bird look so similar. It's a little coincidence that feels like a hug from nature.
Now, I watch Black Phoebes perch on the fence line in our backyard and catch bugs in flight. I still love their curious and playful nature - it seems like they are always coming by to say hello. Today, I noticed a Black Phoebe constructing a nest above the downspout underneath our second-story porch. She's building her nest out of mud. I can relate. I feel most at home around soil, too.
Take care and stay curious,
Yamina