Look, a bird

I've seen ten bird species this week.

The number isn't impressive, obviously. And none of the birds are rare. But I've seen ten birds. For the first time, I've noticed them.

So far my favorite is the dunnock, a little spherical ball that bounces on its twig legs. The magpie always gets a hello from me lest he brings bad luck. The mute swans and mallards coast peacefully down the Leeds canals, and the gulls--who knew there were different kinds!--fly overhead. The grey heron looks like something out of a fantasy novel; the rock dove is everywhere, but I've come to enjoy how many times he pops up. I've learned that only the male blackbirds are black; I can now recognize the speckles on the starling. And I spent a good afternoon watching a family of coots diving for their lunch.

Leeds has a lovely nature walk that follows the canal past the docks to lead into a nature reserve in one direction, and a destroyed abbey in the other. I always hope to spot the otters that apparently visit, but more often I'll encounter birds instead. I can't identify their songs but I love them all the same.

Is there a switch in the brain that gets flicked on in your 30s?