This is the story of a mystery solved through team work by a pair of left-brained bird watchers. A tale about a common looking bird with an extraordinary song.  And another example of our incessant search for truth.

Bob and I first heard the haunting duet of Vieillot’s Barbet a.k.a. Lybius vieilloti from our new backyard in Adiebeba in late June or early July, 2012. At the time it was just another new bird call, all mixed up with the chirps and cries of the Woodland kingfisher, Common bulbul, Pied crow, Laughing dove, Northern kingfisher, Grey-headed sparrow and lately, the Western plantain eater.

Every morning we lay in our bed, gazing past the louvered glass at the grey Kumasi sky, listening to the songs of the local birds. Just outside our bedroom are a pair serious bird magnets, two stately trees which grow on the other side of our compound wall. Birds congregate here at dawn and dusk to stake their territorial claims, attract lovers and pay homage to another day. Over time, we’ve identified all but the barbet’s call.

Lybius vieilloti sings a melodious tune which begins with a chirrring sound and quickly develops into a haunting whoo-oop whoo-oop whoo-oop. The song has the quality of a duet. At first we thought it was one bird singing with two voice boxes like the American Wood Thrush but we later came to know that it was two birds singing together.

I discovered this while walking down Robteng towards Atinga Junction on a hot, dry, dusty day. Hearing the initial chirrrr, I stopped to look up into the trees, hand clamped against my forehead for shade from the blazing sun. I moved closer, stepping cautiously across the open ditch. From where I was standing it became obvious that I was listening to two birds. One bird began the song with the chirring sound, much like a conductor tapping a baton and then the second bird chimed in with the harmony.

Day after day, Bob and I listened to the elusive tune, enjoying the beautiful melody and feeling the challenge of identifying the singer. The first note of the call would send us scrambling for Bob’s binoculars. This morning, Bob triumphed! He stepped outside and was able to finally see the scruffy little barbets singing away into a new day.

For whatever reason, I need to attach names to the flavors, smells and sounds I encounter during the day. At times I feel this is silly and try to appreciate the gifts of new sensory input at face value. However, my need to know usually triumphs. Like a pebble in my shoe, the unidentified nags until I’ve given it a name. I’m happy that Bob is wired the same way. From now on, we can look at each other knowingly, the word barbet on the tip of our tongues whenever we hear their song.

Listen here:

Last weekend Bob and I joined Matt and Lyle for a trip to the shore to join a group of writers and activists at Orion’s Grassroots Network Southeast Regional Conference in Columbia, NC. Over our two days there, we enjoyed a good mix of idea exchange, campfire, hiking and birdwatching.

Our group of twenty-six nature loving, intelligent idealists (is that an oxymoron?) brought stories of the battles they have fought or are fighting for change. We talked about the words we use to put labels on people and how those people are all basically the same.

We discussed the implied meanings of words like Hope and Industrialists. We talked about how overpopulation, over consumption, corporate personhood, politics, the plantation mentality, willful ignorance and the military industrial complex all contribute to the destruction of Southern wetlands and compromise the health of the people of the South.

There were many wonderfully articulate speakers with great ideas but I was extremely impressed by one participant in particular. Virginia Townsend, a retired teacher who lost at lease nine members of her family to the polluting industries in her community and who has since put her shoulder to the wheel to educate her neighbors and enforce anti-pollution restrictions. She was the only woman of color in the room but she didn’t let that stop her from speaking from her heart about her experiences.

All my life we’ve had to play a game, being black. You know your place and you’d best stay in it. Labels can be draining, embarrassing. But labels — knowing who a person is — is helpful. To acknowledge differences between people isn’t necessarily wrong. Everybody has a right to be who they are. We’re all different and that’s to be respected.

Con men study the people. The first person to come into the room and say something smart will find followers. That’s how so many get over on people. Basically corporations go in and study the people before they put a plant in.

Writers have a great advantage. Writing is a great medium. I’ve read books that gave me a completely different view of a person. Like the essay the other night. When people read those words, I can’t see how they’re not touched. Sometimes a simple play changes the face of the world.

You can’t get to where you need to go, if you don’t know where you are. If you want to keep a people down, you’ve gotta stay down with them.

All in all, a good time and a nice opportunity to connect with Lyle and Matt. We also took note of birds during the day and by the end of the weekend had identified 43 different species, including the Tundra Swan who come by the thousands to Lake Mattamuskeet.