Puzzling
Becoming a knowledgeable birder is like assembling a 1500-piece jigsaw puzzle.
It is exciting at first, getting started and taking a challenge that seems huge but fun. After several hours, a little of this excitement wears off because there is not yet any picture; in fact, all you've done is laid out the pieces across a huge table and they still don't fit. You are slightly annoyed. How could a puzzle that is only six square feet finished cover forty unfinished?
Perhaps you put it away for the evening; your eyes are tired and you think the morning will bring fresh enthusiasm, which it does. After another whole day, you succeed in putting the edge pieces together to frame it. Though your neck thinks the puzzle should be done by now, you at least have the satisfaction of seeing some progress.
Then, there it comes: the slough of despond. For the next thousand pieces, no single piece will make you feel like you got anywhere toward finishing the puzzle. Only people who come to look over your shoulder will be able to see the great (or not-so-great) progress you have made. But you are determined to keep going; it is still fun to rise to the challenge, and leaving it unfinished is unthinkable.
Perhaps the rest of the analogy breaks down; I haven't gotten past this stage. But I assume that those last fifty pieces, that pile of blue ones that can only be assembled by attention to minutiae, have such a taste of the finish line that even the minutiae become wholly absorbing.
Finally, there is that last piece that disappeared somehow. The picture is virtually done--but there is a hole, and most likely there will be a hole for some time. You have looked around and underneath everything, but only the most fortuitous serendipity will reveal that piece, most likely months or years down the road. Meanwhile, you admire the beauty of the puzzle and bless whoever made it for its intricacy.
My trip to South Texas was amazing, but unfortunately my current state of mind and skill prevents me from detailing it immediately. I hope to do it justice very soon.
It is exciting at first, getting started and taking a challenge that seems huge but fun. After several hours, a little of this excitement wears off because there is not yet any picture; in fact, all you've done is laid out the pieces across a huge table and they still don't fit. You are slightly annoyed. How could a puzzle that is only six square feet finished cover forty unfinished?
Perhaps you put it away for the evening; your eyes are tired and you think the morning will bring fresh enthusiasm, which it does. After another whole day, you succeed in putting the edge pieces together to frame it. Though your neck thinks the puzzle should be done by now, you at least have the satisfaction of seeing some progress.
Then, there it comes: the slough of despond. For the next thousand pieces, no single piece will make you feel like you got anywhere toward finishing the puzzle. Only people who come to look over your shoulder will be able to see the great (or not-so-great) progress you have made. But you are determined to keep going; it is still fun to rise to the challenge, and leaving it unfinished is unthinkable.
Perhaps the rest of the analogy breaks down; I haven't gotten past this stage. But I assume that those last fifty pieces, that pile of blue ones that can only be assembled by attention to minutiae, have such a taste of the finish line that even the minutiae become wholly absorbing.
Finally, there is that last piece that disappeared somehow. The picture is virtually done--but there is a hole, and most likely there will be a hole for some time. You have looked around and underneath everything, but only the most fortuitous serendipity will reveal that piece, most likely months or years down the road. Meanwhile, you admire the beauty of the puzzle and bless whoever made it for its intricacy.
My trip to South Texas was amazing, but unfortunately my current state of mind and skill prevents me from detailing it immediately. I hope to do it justice very soon.
2 Comments:
Help, I'm confused! Did you find the last piece in the Valley, or did you sweep them all off the table in a fit of despair?
You really need to read Pete Dunne.
I probably won't be able to read Pete until I am Dunne with school, or at least this semester. :(
No despair--sorry I gave that impression. I am nowhere close to that last piece, but I think I found a few of those 'slough of despond' pieces in the Valley. Speaking of that, I'm going to go work on that post...
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