A little over 10 years ago, I invested in my first good camera gear. I’d loved photography as a hobby when I had a good quality point-and-shoot, and I really fell in love when my ex-husband, a photographer, let me use his gear and helped teach me the finer points of using it. Alas, he took his camera bag when we split, so in 2011, it had been a while since I had spent much time taking pictures.

But a Duluth friend/birder/photographer who had a regular feature on my radio show was getting me excited about the new digital photography tech, and one spring, right around this time that year, I blew my income tax refund on a DSLR (digital single-lens reflex) camera.

I’d been thinking for a while that, as a single mom, I was going to need to find something to occupy myself so I didn’t become a helicopter parent or worse. Good thing I was in the market for an obsession, because I found one. I put in about 15 hours a week, photographing adoptable dogs at the animal shelter. Duluth has no shortage of birds and wildlife, so I met some new photographer friends and started going out with them regularly.

And then there were my monthly (or so) trips to visit my folks here in Alexandria.

Let me back up a minute. My eyesight has been crummy ever since third grade, when I got my first pair of glasses. First it was nearsightedness, then nearsightedness with astigmatism… now it’s both of those plus age.

So imagine my delight when, through the magic of a camera lens, I learned the black specks and brown blobs I’d been seeing all my life resolve themselves into birds with the most amazing and undreamed of colors! Suddenly every trip home became a photo safari, and Douglas County was rich with heretofore unseen treasures.

Photography became almost like Christmas morning when I was a kid: “What did I get? What did I get?” And frequently: “Oh, this is even better than I thought it would be!” Birds almost never disappoint: even a photo that’s not crystal clear or beautifully composed can show the bright black twinkle of a sparrow’s eye or the huge yellow eyes of an owl. Although the subject of the photo is long gone, I can pore over the image to my heart’s content, looking at cormorants’ funny feet or the slate blue in a sparrow’s wing.

Who knew that bird was really green? Who knew that bird had a bright yellow head? Who knew that those “ducks” floating on the slough were wood ducks and blue-winged teal and scaup and redhead?

Photography has opened up a whole new world for me, but it’s really made birds something special. If we’re not racing through our days being “busy,” we’re racing down the road at 70 miles an hour. I’m tired of busy.

I still drive faster than I should, but now I’m scanning the roadsides and trees and fences and power lines for birds. My camera with the big zoom lens sits in the passenger seat so I can slam on the brakes and pull over at a moment’s notice to photograph a turkey vulture or a red tailed hawk or a bald eagle.

I know every slough and body of water between Lake Brophy in Douglas County to Kenney Lake in Grant County, where I spend most of my vacation time.

Then after I’ve doodled my way home after as many stops as it took to get photos, I can make a cup of coffee and carry it over to the computer and sit down. I can take my time browsing through my pictures, finally able to see clearly the birds I photographed.

So

when my friend Laura

talks about that childlike joy of discovery … I’m still having that experience (or I will be, once I get my best gear out of storage with the rest of my life). That driver in front of you who just hit the brakes and veered over onto the shoulder? Who’s snapping away with a big lens at who-knows-what out the window? That’s just a gray-haired child, experiencing elation and wonder. She’s got her hazard flashers on, at least, so just give her a smile and drive on by.

“It’s Our Turn” is a weekly column that rotates among members of the Echo Press editorial staff.