Something that even some of my friends don't know about me is I'm into birds, and have been for over 30 years. The preferred term is "birding" for people who are seriously into it, but I've never quite put myself in that category, even though I do own a handful of reference books, some nice binoculars and even a high-powered spotting scope. 

I know some adventurous birders who travel long distances to place new check marks on their life list. Mine is a more passive pursuit, but it's a big part of my life. A day is not complete without visiting with the regulars at my small feeder and bird bath or habitually scanning the skies, trees and power lines for feathered friends.

How in the world did you spot that osprey flying overhead, someone might ask. You've gotta look for 'em, and listen. Sadly to me, many people never do because they're just not very curious about the outside world.

I got to see some real pros in action recently at the Alabama Audubon's Bird Banding Event at Fort Morgan. It was a fantastic day, sunny but not too hot, with a steady but gentle breeze coming in off Mobile Bay. These banding events, held in the spring and fall, have significant scientific value because they help the experts track the birds' locations and behavioral patterns. Because they're open to the public, they help to spread awareness about the joys of birding as well as the importance of conservation.

For six days, the Audubon folks set up their nearly invisible mesh nets to catch birds returning from spending the winter in Central America and South America. They fly non-stop across the Gulf of Mexico, so when they arrive here on the coast they are more than ready for a rest and to find something to eat and some fresh water. The Fort Morgan area is a popular landing spot for them because it's a large, wooded piece of land that's mostly uninhabited and undeveloped.

The nets captured a few hundred birds that week, but they were detained only briefly before being set free to continue on their journeys. Each was carefully measured and then fitted with a uniquely numbered ID band. The location of their capture and other data was added to an online database.

I'm not a member of the Audubon Society, but I've taken part in their field trips many times over the years, not just in Alabama but also in Mississippi, Texas and New Mexico. For me, joining a group of experienced birders has been a fantastic way to meet interesting, like-minded people and get acquainted with an area's flora, fauna and terrain.

From such outings, a few remarkable experiences remain fresh in my memory bank decades later. One that comes to mind was the tree full of yellow-headed blackbirds, dazzling in the blazing sun, near Abiquiú, N.M. Another sensational sighting happened northeast of Santa Fe, where a magnificent parade of snow geese flew low at dusk by the thousands in a continuous, 20-minute wave. We bird enthusiasts lay still on our backs in a field, quietly marveling at a breathtaking overhead view so spectacular that it's still hard to adequately describe almost 30 years later.

I got started with bird-watching for real in the early '90s while living on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. Having grown up in Jackson, Miss., I was fairly well versed in common songbirds like cardinals, blue jays, sparrows and mockingbirds, and gradually grew observant enough to single out less-common species like the brown thrasher and the ruby-crowned kinglet.

When I moved to the Coast in 1989, shorebirds were suddenly in the picture as I started seeing the various herons, egrets, sandpipers, gulls and terns. My eyes were also drawn to an unusual bird with a spiky haircut and an undulating, stop-and-start style of flying that almost seemed like it was shifting gears in mid-air. Soon I learned it was a belted kingfisher, and it's no exaggeration to say I've been more aware of my surroundings ever since that day I first saw one.

"That is what we in the birding community call a 'spark bird,'" says Cortney Weatherby, who is coastal outreach manager for Alabama Audubon. "For many people, there was one bird or a handful of bird species that they saw and it created a sense of wonder. It almost lifts the veil and gives you a feeling of, 'Oh my gosh, these birds are all around all the time.'"

She loves the experience of leading bird walks, like she did at the banding event last month. When a bird would land, she would point it out and describe it in detail.

"I get to literally watch people's facial expressions, and you can see the 'aha moment' in their eyes," Cortney says, "and then you see their whole body language change. That is so cool."

Besides generating more interest in birds, such experiences may also put their habitat in a new light. 

"Hopefully it helps them find a sense of place in a unique region like this one is," Cortney says. "Whether it's Fort Morgan or 5 Rivers or Dauphin Island or Gulf State Park, they're going to carry that memory of that location for the rest of their life. Hopefully that will turn into a deeper sense of appreciation and wonder for other places, as well."

That certainly happened to me. Once I discovered new birds in places like Ocean Springs, Pascagoula, Biloxi and Gulfport, I kept looking for them everywhere I went, and I started noticing many other living things. 

As I write this, I can look out my window at a pair of house finches settling into their new nest in the eave of the front porch. A colony of house sparrows thrives in the large shrub near the street while two eastern bluebirds and a downy woodpecker favor the maple tree. 

I watched a soaring bald eagle from the porch recently, and days later a circling Mississippi kite. The mini-menagerie in the backyard includes a host of cardinals and Carolina chickadees as well as red-winged blackbirds, red-bellied woodpeckers, blue jays and mockingbirds, common grackles and three kinds of doves.

There's no telling what I might see (and hear) tomorrow. I look forward to it.