I saw an Eastern Phoebe yesterday.

Phoebes are small and drab birds, they don’t have a pretty song, they do not do anything particularly endearing, other than bob their tails when perched on branches. I know, I know -  big deal.

Phoebes only attract attention from two groups of people: nerdy bird watchers with binoculars swinging from their necks, and rural homeowners who find piles of Phoebe faeces on the deck chairs under in the rafters of their porches.

But before I saw the Phoebe, I learned that 2010 is the International Year of Biological Diversity -“a celebration of life on earth and of the value of biodiversity for our lives.” This celebration follows neatly on the heels of the 150th anniversary of the publishing of The Origin of Species by Charles Darwin.

Darwin was nothing if not a keen observer of the life he saw around him. Among other things, he studied beetles and barnacles and wrote a book about earth worms and vegetable moulds. Not exactly thrilling subject matter at first glance. That said, barnacles do have the longest penises of any animal, in proportion to their body size, though I cannot say if Darwin was aware of this or not.

Simply put, Darwin did not discriminate between sexy, toothy megafauna and small boring bugs, but his keen observations of small critters led to his revolutionary insights that fundamentally changed our ideas about one of the grandest of mysteries of the Universe. That is, the origins of the diversity of life on Earth.

Life on Earth! What could be a more compelling mystery in an entire Universe of uninhabitable space?

Now, back to the Phoebe.

I found it when I flushed it from last year’s nesting site in the rafters above my car port.

There are a couple things to mention here, lest we overlook how flabbergasting they are. Firstly, this is most certainly the very same bird that nested in this exact location last year. Secondly, not long ago, this little bird was in Florida or Mexico and arrived in this precise place after flying 100′s of kilometers without any navigational gadgetry.  No map. No compass. No satellite guided GPS.

Some humans I know cannot even follow the linear pathways of our heavily signed highways and roads without getting lost. Luckily most of them own cell phones to call somebody for help if they go astray.

Yes, migratory birds are common and we all know they migrate huge distances, but I think we seldom consider how remarkable that truly is. For example, some Bar-tailed Godwits have been know to migrate 11 000 km non-stop, relying on large fat reserves (55% of their pre-migration body weight) to see them through.

Our little Phoebe travelled a fraction of that distance, but how many humans can say they travelled from Florida to Quebec completely on their own steam?  There are a few to be sure,  but these are largely freakish exceptions – and it would have taken them a heck of a lot longer than little Phoebe. Likely weeks longer. By comparison, billions of birds migrate to northern Canada from southern climes – and back – every year.

So while this drab little Phoebe re-builds its nest for the next brood, I will strive to watch the finer details of its existence through the eyes of Darwin –  with an attentive sense of awe and wonder.  What better way to honour the International Year of Biodiversity.