Birding in an Office

By nature: a risky and pugnacious adventurer. By (temporary) career: an accountant.

It was a twist and a twirl that led me to my windowless cave. I just looked at it like seasonal hibernation, and I told my boss from the get go that I’d be gone by spring. I fully advocate proactively changing things in your life that do not make you happy, but in some rare scenarios, hunkering down and enduring, at least briefly, is the proper choice. So there I was: walled in on four sides and not a single bird song or earthy smell to feed my senses.

Sometimes quite often I would lose my mind a bit. Essentially, I was paid to day dream longingly, struggle, make mistakes, day dream some more, fix my mistakes, and repeat several times a week. My success, at least my mental success, in the traditional 9-5 office stemmed from observing my coworkers as I would the beasts in the jobs I held outside as a guide.

The office resembled the hot rookeries of kittiwakes where many disputes were settled with belligerent honks and flirtatious gossip between mated pairs. The jaegars – the accidentals – would alight briefly in the rookery to investigate various financial curiosities, and stir some drama in the nest as any foreign sight would do to creatures of habit. Nesting neighbors would fight, and they were not below heated anger. Surprisingly, the office rookery held many species of different rank and nature, all coexisting, to some extent, in the crowded space behind an aging door, each of dire importance to the success of the ecosystem. It was a fertile place. And while all this dragged on, I remained eternally silent in my walls, chuckling as civil human tongue faded to the howl of sea lions and the squaks of sea birds whilst I tracked numbers and accountability, counting down the minutes, hours, and days to the return to sea.

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