As brown-eyed susans and fuchsia coneflowers have taken over my garden, in that last glorious wave of Vermont’s summer, I feel wistful because my seasonal gig is ending. For three months a year, I am an avian extension agent: unpaid, self-appointed and yes, I made up the title. I help eastern bluebirds, black-capped chickadees and tree swallows raise their young in five tiny wooden birdhouses in Burlington. The houses on poles help bird species that need cavities to nest in.
The rest of the year I teach environmental studies at the University of Vermont and serve as a freshmen adviser. The jobs are surprisingly similar. In both spheres — the avian and the academic — I work with creatures who make me laugh, make me cry and inspire me not to give up on this troubled world. While I am a bit sad cleaning out empty nests from the birdhouses, I am excited as I spruce up syllabuses for my incoming students, especially the 18 fluttering, nervous, hungry-for-the-world freshmen I’ll be advising during their first year.