To the Birds — Days 1–5: Finding a Rhythm in Crofton, Vancouver Island
- Apr 13
- 2 min read
Some things don’t start with a plan — they just begin quietly.
Setting up a small bird camera in the garden was one of those things. I didn’t expect much from it at first. Just something simple to check here and there.
But over the first five days, something shifted.
Not just in what showed up… but in how I started to pay attention.
The First Five Days
It started stronger than I expected.
Day 1 brought 16 visits — all hummingbirds.
Day 2 followed with 15, and a second species appeared.
Day 3 jumped to 42 visits, with three different species in total.
Day 4 slowed right down — only 8 visits, mostly quick flybys.
And Day 5 settled into something balanced again, with 13 visits and all three species returning.
Every day was different.
And that’s what made it interesting.
What Showed Up
Over those five days, three species kept appearing:
Anna’s hummingbird
Rufous hummingbird
Chestnut-backed chickadee
At first, they all felt the same — just movement, wings, quick flashes of activity.
But the more I watched, the more I started to notice the differences.
The way they move.
The way they pause.
The way some return again and again.
Not Every Day Looks the Same
What stood out the most wasn’t the busiest day.
It was the contrast.
One day full of constant movement, the next quiet and almost still.
It felt like a reminder that nature doesn’t follow a schedule — and maybe it’s not meant to.
There’s something grounding about that.
About letting things be what they are, without needing them to be more.
A Familiar Feeling
Even though I didn’t grow up on Vancouver Island, it has always felt like a place where something shifts.
Growing up in Langley, life was busier, louder — always moving.
But every year, coming to the island — travelling up past Campbell River toward Port Hardy — felt different.
Places like San Josef Bay stayed with me.
The ocean, the quiet, the pace of everything.
Even the ferry ride over felt like a transition — like everything from the mainland slowly melted away.
And when you arrived, something lifted.
You felt lighter.
More yourself.
Like you could take off the mask a little.
Back to Now
Standing in my own yard now, in Crofton, watching these small moments repeat day after day…
It feels like a return to that same feeling.
Not big.
Not dramatic.
Just steady.
⸻
What This Has Become
This wasn’t meant to be anything.
But over five days, it’s become a small ritual.
A check-in.
A pause.
A reminder that there’s always something happening — even when it feels quiet.
I’ve been using the Birdsnap app to track what’s showing up, but the real value isn’t in the data.
It’s in the noticing.
⸻
From our little corner of Crofton, on Vancouver Island — this is Days 1–5.
And, unexpectedly, the most consistent I’ve been with something in a while.
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