Birding from a Wheelchair
With binoculars in hand, Stories to Inspire author and avid bird watcher Donna O’Daniel proudly shows off a younger picture of herself, out in the field with a bird perched on her head.
By Donna O’Daniel
In December of 1987, I graduated from the University of Texas with my master’s degree in biological sciences. My dream of spending the rest of my life outdoors working on birds was coming true! I was 42 years old, had changed careers, and was headed for my first biology job – hiking on East and West Falkland to document their breeding birds (including five species of penguins) during their brief nesting summer. I had to be careful to avoid the mine fields that were left by the invading Argentine armies from the recent Falkland War.
Three months later, I was almost a world away in Alaska on a field camp along the Bering Sea coast with five other biologists from the Togiak National Wildlife Refuge. Our task was to monitor the northward migrating waterfowl and shorebirds on their way to their high tundra nesting grounds. Meanwhile, the daily outgoing tides from the nearby inlet were causing huge chunks of breaking ice to pile up at the narrow entrance to the Bering Sea, coming threateningly close to our tents. We scrambled to move them out of the way. Things were getting very interesting – avoiding mine fields on the southern ocean’s islands, and now, avoiding huge chunks of ice in the Arctic! But I was having the time of my life!
One morning I woke up in my tent and could not see out of my left eye. After six days, I had to be flown out in the refuge floatplane to see an eye doctor in Anchorage. The good news? It was optic neuritis and would resolve itself in a few weeks. The bad news? Many people with optic neuritis eventually develop MS.
But I was healthy at the time, so I just continued to my next assignment, this time at Alaska’s Cape Peirce, spying on three species of seabirds (Kittiwakes, Murres, and Cormorants) nesting along the precarious, vertical cliff faces through a spotting scope to determine their nesting cycles. I had convinced my supervisor that I could do the job because I could monitor the birds with my good eye through the scope.
A year later, I was teaching biology at Chemeketa Community College in Salem, Oregon, when I awoke one morning with double vision. The diagnosis? The same as before, but the doctor told me I probably had MS already. But there were still no outward physical signs, so I just resumed my work.
Years later, in 2008, a slight weakness developed in my right leg, which over several months got progressively worse. MS had finally caught up with me. I needed a cane for stability and I needed to rest for part of the day, but by doing so, I was still able to perform volunteer bird work at national wildlife refuges in Florida and Arizona. But the big hammer came down in 2011 when my right leg ceased functioning, rest or no rest. My life changed drastically overnight. I could no longer perform volunteer bird work at national wildlife refuges or even walk.
How was I to continue my passion of observing birds? I concluded there had to be a way, even from a wheelchair, as I settled into my new home in Northern Arizona.
A sturdy electric wheelchair with large tires enables me to traverse the gravel trails at the nearby Sedona Wetlands, where I am able to see many species of waterfowl as well as migrating and nesting perching birds utilizing the many trees lining the ponds. I also have an electric scooter in which I can zoom around my apartment complex. Binoculars at the ready, I am able to spy any winged creature in a tree, on the ground, in the water, or in the air.
I was not disappointed on my first outing using my scooter, as I saw a nesting pair of stunningly beautiful Hooded Orioles in a nearby palm tree, two strikingly patterned Gambel’s Quail hesitantly walking out from the protection of a large bush, a pair of handsome Wood Ducks stealthily making their way along the water’s edge of our reclamation pond, and a sprightly Black Phoebe flycatching from a pipe protruding from the pond’s bank. In the sky above were the ubiquitous Common Ravens skydiving on a harried Red-tailed Hawk.
I even discovered that I can bird from my wheelchair without leaving my apartment! I have a nice view from several windows, enabling me to watch thirsty hummingbirds at my feeder, flycatchers landing on a satellite dish seven feet from my window as they hawk for flying insects, hawks and ravens perching on nearby wires, and thirsty birds that drink from my patio birdbath, six feet from my door. This past winter, I even observed a feisty Bewick’s Wren scurrying about on my patio floor for insects.
I am living proof that it is still possible to enjoy a passion for birdwatching – even from a wheelchair!