‘Tis the Season To Count Birds – Vol 2.
Patrick Meeker
It was 6:15 in the morning and I was ready to roll.
Once I scarfed down my paltry breakfast, a bowl of Rice Chex, my ride was there, ready to drive us down to the shores of Alameda via the Oakland Yacht Club. Sitting there at the end of the dock, there she was: “Sparky,” a modest fishing vessel that was participating in its 4th consecutive Christmas Bird Count (CBC).
The fog was coming in thick across the San Francisco Bay as our boat launched from the dock. It was cold—the kind of cold that bites at your cheeks and makes you acutely aware of every breath. Yet as I settled into my role for the day, binoculars snug around my neck, life jacket firmly attached, my iPhone charged up and eBird open at the ready, I felt something more than the chill of the day.
I felt connection.
This being my 10th consecutive CBC, the day represented far more than tallying species for me. It was a commitment I’d made to myself months ago—a promise rooted in my deepest values: building meaningful relationships and staying connected to nature. As the boat cut through the water, I was beginning to see how this single day embodied everything I am preaching: intentionality, presence, and the courage to show up for what matters.
Being Intentional and Showing Up
It was my intention to be more involved with the Golden Gate Bird Alliance this year. Not only would I be participating in the Oakland CBC again, but I wanted to get up close and personal with the data behind the count and become a compiler, which meant I would be part of a team putting together the final tally of bird count data for the entire day from all groups participating. This required blocking much of my calendar, coordinating with other dedicated people who also did this in their free time, and ultimately making space for something that fills up my cup.
It was then that I realized I needed to ask myself: how is it that some of us struggle to honor our commitments to the things we value most? In theory, we know what matters; our relationships, our health, our connection to something larger than ourselves, yet we let the daily grind pull us away.
As I’ve begun to venture into new territory around coaching and building something of my own, I’ve learned that showing up, even when it feels inconvenient, is the foundation of a mindful and productive life. It’s not about cramming more into your day; it’s about protecting space for the things that align with who you want to be.
The Power of Specialized Roles and Collaboration
As we ventured out of the Oakland/Alameda Estuary and slowly into the bay, our team knew what roles were needed to play. We had assigned roles, the first being an expert spotter. I entrusted those skills to Bruce Mast and Dallas Levy, both exceptional birders, especially of the pelagic species. These were people who had the skills to be able to distinguish a Greater Scaup from a Lesser 200 yards out or could pick out a White-winged Scoter among a flock of 1,000 Surf Scoters in a heartbeat. Both Bruce and Dallas had an extended telephoto lens to capture individuals in large flocks of birds for any identification challenges later but there weren’t many.
And then there was me—the data recorder, translating my spotters’ sharp eyes and deep knowledge into the official count data. I couldn’t help but think while we were out there that this felt very reminiscent of an episode of Star Trek, each of us playing our designated role on the Starship Enterprise.
This is a lesson I often share with the people I work with: we don’t have to be experts in everything. We’re more productive, more present, and more fulfilled when we play to our strengths and trust others to play to theirs. My spotters weren’t concerned with data entry; I wasn’t stressed about making the difficult gull identifications. We each brought our best selves to our role, which freed us to fully engage.
The Gift of Presence
Then came the moments that stopped me in my tracks.
Driving right up to and under the Bay Bridge, I felt dwarfed by something massive and magnificent. You get a perspective that the thousands of cars up above going over the bridge are not seeing—the little alcoves and pockets of nature pressed up against such a massive structure. As we headed along, the bridge troll glinted in the sun as the clouds finally began to clear. Enormous tankers full of cargo loomed beside us—floating cities of commerce and human ambition. Yet there we were, a small boat of five people, quietly watching and counting birds.
It was humbling. And it was perfect.
When the sun finally broke through the fog, something shifted. The cold was still there. The wind still whipped at my face. But the warmth of the sun hitting my skin brought a sudden clarity—a sense of calm that comes only when you’re fully present. Not thinking about what came before, not worrying about what comes next. Just there, on the water, breathing deeply, witnessing the world as it is.
This is what I mean by mindful productivity. It’s not about doing more; it’s about being fully where you are.
Learning from Assumptions
Over the course of the day, we identified 53 species of birds. Yet I was struck by how much I didn’t know. Despite considering myself a very good birder, I had to humble myself to the expertise of my spotters. I had to let go of my assumptions about what I could identify on my own and lean into learning—and I mean really learning. Being able to pick out the subtle field marks that distinguish one gull from another, or the nuances that separate deep-water ducks being among flocks of several thousand, every one of them needing to be counted.
This is where growth lives: in the space between confidence and curiosity.
The broader CBC effort reinforces this beautifully. Last year, the San Francisco count identified over 50,000 individual birds across 180 species. Nationwide, thousands of volunteers participate in this community science initiative, contributing decades of data that help us understand population trends, migration patterns, and the health of our ecosystems. Our small team’s efforts ripple outward into something massive.
When people ask me about this particular day, they always ask if there’s a particular bird I’m looking forward to seeing, and the honest answer is, I don’t know. For this particular year, there was buzz in the broader birding circles about specific rarities such as a lone Yellow-Billed Loon in the Alameda Estuary as well as a Eurasian Wigeon—both birds not native to this area and almost certainly birds that will be added to many “life lists,” ultimately igniting the passion that keeps community scientists like us coming back year after year.
The Bigger Picture
Participating in the Christmas Bird Count reminded me why I continue to do this work. We all have values that call to us—connection, growth, contribution, presence. Yet so often, we treat them as luxuries rather than necessities. We’ll find time for them “someday,” when life slows down. But life doesn’t slow down. And the moment passes.
This day on the bay taught me (once again) that showing up for what matters—whether it’s a bird count, a meditation practice, a conversation with someone you love, or a commitment to your own growth—isn’t something you fit in. It’s something you decide, and then you protect that space fiercely.
An Invitation
If you’re reading this and feeling that pull toward something more intentional, something more aligned with your values, I’d love to talk with you. Whether it’s about building sustainable productivity practices, clarifying what truly matters to you, or creating systems that honor your commitments—these are conversations I’m passionate about.
You can reach out to explore how mindful productivity coaching might support your life and goals. Let’s build something together—just like that team on the boat, each bringing our best selves to the work.
In the meantime, I encourage you to consider how you might participate in community science or conservation efforts in your own community. The Christmas Bird Count is just one example, but there are countless ways to connect with nature, build community, and contribute to something larger than yourself.
The bay will be there next year and so will I, clipboard in hand, ready to count, learn, and bear witness to the extraordinary world around us.
Patrick Meeker comes from a former tech background and more recently has transitioned into entrepreneurship by starting his own coaching business, bringing a unique blend of systems thinking and mindfulness practices to his work. He is a master birder graduate and passionate citizen scientist who believes in helping others build towards long-term goals through values-driven beliefs.