We visited Briarwood Nursing Home for an N.E.S.T. nature education session this week. We decided to do something a little different. Instead of looking at pictures of birds, we played their songs.
The idea was simple: play a recording, ask the residents to guess the bird, and see where the conversation took us. We listened to familiar calls, shared a few laughs, and heard stories.
When we played the song of a meadowlark, a spell fell over one of the residents.
A man who had been animated and joyful suddenly hunched forward. His back seemed to heave. One of the CNAs noticed him too and went over.
The CNA encouraged him to tell us what he had whispered to her. After a moment, he began to speak.
He told us that the meadowlark song was the very song he remembered hearing on the morning he buried his mother.
August 16, 2001.
He remembered the date. He remembered the weather. He remembered the flowers at the gravesite. And he remembered the meadowlarks’ joyful song.
As I listened, I was struck by the extraordinary detail of his memory. Twenty-five years had passed, yet that morning was still with him. I don’t know what he was thinking as he listened to the recording. What I do know is that a simple bird recording opened a door.
We often think about memory as something that fades with age. We worry about what people forget: names, dates, conversations, even familiar faces. But that afternoon reminded me that memory is more complicated than we understand. A sound, a smell, or a glimpse of something familiar can reach places tucked away.
Nature does that in a remarkable way. It connects us with startling clarity to moments, people, and places that shaped our lives.
At N.E.S.T. (Nature Engagement for Seniors Trust), we bring birds and nature into long-term care communities because we believe everyone deserves a connection to the natural world. We bring the equipment, the materials, and trained volunteers to make those experiences possible.
We arrived at Briarwood to play bird songs and teach a little about birds. We left with full hearts for a man and a memory of meadowlarks.
Too often, I am compelled to measure the success of our programs by how many residents participate, how many birds they recognize, or how much they learn. Today, we will measure success by the moments when someone finds his or her way back to an important part of their life. It’s not a stat we can publish, but it is one I will hold in my heart.
To N.E.S.T’s beloved donors, I hope this story makes your heart swell too. Thank you for all you do to make days like yesterday happen.
