A group of nine men and women, both young and old, stand on a bridge that overlooks the wonder that is Crissy Field. They stand surveying the landscape in front of them with binoculars in hand and eyes astute. But there is something that they are paying particular attention to. It's a creature that every San Franciscan casually notices on their day to day, but normally does not stop twice to think about, the winged creature of the sky--the bird. But what are they doing? They are doing what they do best--birding.

It is nine a.m. on a dreary Friday morning, and Andy Kleinhesselink and Domink Mosur are not at home asleep in their beds, but instead they are out in nature leading a bird walk. Kleinhesselink leads the way wearing grey pants, a black rain jacket, a blue beanie covering his blond hair, and a black bird scope in tow. Mosur, a tall, scruffy guy with brown hair serves as the co-captain of this birding team. They take their group from Crissy Field to the Tennessee Hollow Watershed, the Presidio's largest watershed and oasis to wildlife. As they make their way, the weather begins to show its true colors and begins to rain. Everyone puts their hoods on except for one. "It's typical of birdwatchers--we're all out here in the rain," Mosur admits as rain sprinkles on his long brown hair that he wears in a ponytail. "The main [reason] for why I bird in the rain (as long as it's not too heavy) is that birds don't mind the rain as much we do," Mosur says.

Kleinhesselink, with his energetic blue eyes beaming, does not falter. Instead he speaks with the same amount of fervor as if there were hail and thunder. "This is going to be a great bird watching spot," he says. He purses his lips and begins to make a bird sound: "Sp sp sp." The group falls silent as they scan the green brush. For the birders on this walk, birding is a way to observe nature and learn more about the world around them.

For Kleinhesselink and Mosur, birdwatching came as a result of having a natural interest in nature. Mosur, thirty-one, took many ecology and field biology courses at San Diego City College and City College of San Francisco, and currently works at Randall Museum as the animal care assistant and also does programs with kids. "It's become a lifestyle and it makes life more interesting. I'm constantly curious," says Mosur, who's been birding since he's received his first pair of binoculars eight years ago. "Being outside learning about the natural cycle helps you understand yourself better."

"It's never ending. Each day brings something new. You're always learning," Mosur says.

Mosur points out the long neck of the Great Blue Heron, a bird that preys on fish, but also feeds on rodents. "Get your camera ready. It might grab a gopher," he says with a chuckle.

"Being a good observer is not enough," says Josiah Clark, a professional birding guide who founded Habitat Potential, an environmental consulting service. He says the new generation of birders is trying to conserve native plants and keep invasive species from destroying habitats. Thirty-five-year-old Clark has been birding since he was fourteen years old, and says younger birders have new energy and new philosophies. "We have the luxury of several generations of birders before us. The older generation laid the groundwork for subsequent groups of birders."

Clark says that this generation of birders has a greater appreciation of natural history and ecology. "The younger generation is involved in true conservation and hands-on stewardship," says Clark. "A lot of this stuff is going away. If you blink you might miss it."
This birder brigade is unlike the stereotypical image of "birdwatchers" which summons up images of old fogeys wearing glasses, oversized fishing hats, and camouflage vests with a pair of binoculars in hand. However this is not the case for Kleinhesselink, Mosur, and Clark. For these gentlemen, birding represents a way of life, a way of keeping in tune with nature and conserving it.

Kleinhesselink, a twenty-six-year-old who works for The Presidio Trust, which pursues habitat restoration, started birding five years ago. "Birding is a way to stay connected with the land. You're more acutely aware of the environment. It's like becoming a Zen master," he says with a laugh. Both Kleinhesselink and Clark like to bike to different locations and scout for birds. Kleinhesselink has his own blog called "Bike-by Birding" in which he chronicles how many different species he has seen over the course of a year.

"I have a deeper connection with my local environment," Kleinhesselink says. "My experience of the world would be limited to watching TV." But as a birder you start to pay attention to the weather and a world that has "nothing to do with the world of people," he says. Kleinhesselink equates birding to the time a gardener spends tending to and harvesting their crops. Both involve a connection with the natural world. He says that if there is an insect outbreak in the park you might not see it, but you will see birds congregating around and showing you what is going on. Birds are often called "indicator species" he says.

There is definitely a competitive aspect to birding. This can be seen in America's Birdiest City Contest. It's "a place where birders get together for one day, hit their favorite spots, see all the rarities. It's like a scavenger hunt," Mosur says. San Francisco has such a diverse wealth of birds that it placed second with 178 species counted on one weekend. There is also a competition called The Big Year, the goal being to see as many different species over the course of one calendar year. Both Clark and Kleinhesselink participated in the Big Green Year of 2008 where, instead of driving, they rode their bikes to all the locations. The two saw a grand total of 295 species together in San Francisco and other parts of Northern California. "At the root of my birding is my friendly competition between other birders," Clark says. He says it's not about stopping what you're doing at the drop of a hat to go see a rare bird. "I pride myself on having my pulse on the lifeline of the city--it's like having my finger on the pulse of all things wild."

Even though the group of birders leading the group is providing youth and energy, one elderly woman is capable of hanging with them. She wears a dark pink beanie on her head and a light pink and grey jacket. Her name is Monique, and she inquisitively asks questions about the birds that Kleinhesselink points out. At seventy-four, she has been bird watching for four years and finds it intoxicating.

"It's better than alcohol. It's a miracle. You see a new bird every day."