Michael Lombardo

McGolrick Bird Club

Introduce yourself and what’s floating your boat these days?

I’m Michael, the recovering tech worker who started McGolrick Bird Club. Every Saturday, in a small, urban park, we teach on average 70 Brooklynites how to birdwatch.

Boat is afloat thanks to my berserk two-year-old daughter, a nascent design studio with like-minded avianheads, the Reynaldo Rivera show at PS1, this morning’s breakfast burrito.

We’re curious, what was the inspiration behind the community you are creating: McGolrick Bird Club?

When I started birding in 2019, my friends and family were like, “Are you okay?” There’s this huge gap between what ‘normal’ people think birding is and what birders feel.

The first time I decided to pay attention to birds—Jenny Odell’s book How to Do Nothing inspired me to try—it took, like, a minute to notice a bird I’d never seen. But more than that, I went from not giving a shit about birds to this visceral understanding that knowing them makes you feel more human. I started McGolrick Bird Club because I want everyone to have that experience.

As for the growing community, it has honestly surprised me. Early days, I just wanted to help neighbors notice new birds. Nowadays, I witness strangers becoming acquaintances and friends. I try to remember names and introduce people to one another, but nothing is by design. Neighbors getting to know one another IRL is a bit like bacteria dancing in a messy but ultimately healthy and happy microbiome. I try to serve as an unwitting, grateful probiotic.

We love your motto of “getting weirdos birding” and the simple thought behind just showing up. Could you elaborate on how this came to be?

Thank you! My friends and family, like me, aren’t life sciences people. We didn’t formally study ecology. We don’t regularly camp nor hike. We’re designers, city lovers, artists, addicts, skaters, freaks, etc. Not that birders don’t already Venn diagram with these weirdo groups. They do. But the label “birder”—instead of reawakened senses and being alive to the everyday sacred and Mary Oliver mornings and a punk rejection of phone culture—conjures up images of asocial obsessives, cute retirees, bad fits, rarity chasers. The stereotypes are true to a degree, and I’m down for twitchers, but birding has a branding problem. I want the practice to go broader.

That mental divide is compounded by a physical one: exposure to birding can be limited to dawn outings in faraway parks. I love early-worming and field trips, but most city people aren’t waking up early to cross town beyond work commutes. We're out every Saturday, rain or shine, same corner of the same urban park, year round. We start at 9am, and have ~20 loaner binoculars to spare. You can very much just show up.

The idea is to bridge the gap between the insular world of birders and a general public hungry for a deeper connection to the natural world. If we can get gen pop gobsmacked by a cackling Northern Flicker, they’ll graduate to seeking distant dawn choruses on their own.

You are also a rad artist. How do you find that birding and art collide?

Thank you again! Birding feels good because we’re using our animal senses and intelligence to comprehend and connect to the real world—what we were designed to do. Our ancestors sheltered in caves then drew horses. Maybe creating activates the same primal stuff.

Tell us more about being a naturalist in NYC. Most people can get bogged down in a city - how do you get out there and find peace in nature?

NYC is definitely slept on in terms of access to nature. Coastline reminiscent of pre colonial New York exists in most boroughs. World class parks, thanks to ecologically minded New Yorkers past and present who’ve maintained native plants, remain important stopover points for birds on ancient migration routes.

Another way of looking at this: I lived in San Francisco for almost two decades and know how proud locals are of its access to nature. Rightly so. But those outdoors feature as many people fixated on snapping the perfect Instagram photo, or junkie-scrolling TikTok, as they do people getting zen among coast live oaks.

So in a qualitative sense, finding peace in NYC is easy because practicing awareness in any context is enough. Like, even when a park’s not in sight and you’re traversing a city, instead of Gollum-touching your phone, just fall back into your senses and notice the real world. Besides flyovers and perched birds, there are old brick buildings, community gardens, songs and conversations, graffiti, and Garry Winogrand worthy scenes of human primates sneering and smiling. You just have to be present.

We’re stoked that Nocs are in your toolkit. In what situations do you find yourself grabbing your Nocs? How are they helping your craft?

Hawks and falcons are all over NYC’s skylines, and neotropical birds show up in surprising places during migrations, so I keep a lightweight Field Tube in my work bag for on-the-go encounters.

On weekends I carry Nocs Pros in a shoulder bag. Those are for birding trips and just puttering around close to home. There’s a cathedral across from McGolrick Park where Red-tailed Hawks, Kestrels, Peregrines and Merlins perch. It’s nice to be able to pass binoculars to passersby so they can see bird neighbors in greater detail.

If you could describe yourself as any creature or animal, what would it be?

Wish I could say my favorite bird, the Hooded Oriole, but I’m not as vividly beautiful nor free as them. I’ll settle for featherless biped or Diogenes’ plucked chicken or just highly sensitive primate. Or burrito eater.

Anything on the Bird Club calendar that you’re looking forward to? We’d love to stay in touch! Where can we find you these upcoming months?

We’re doing an event with Usal’s geniuses on September 7th. That’ll dovetail, place and timewise, with our regularly scheduled walk. We’re also dreaming up an early October event with the legends at SWIRL NEW YORK CITY. Until then we’ll be at McGolrick Park every Saturday at 9. Stop by. We’re also findable online. So if you can’t yet bring yourself to quit social media, follow us for the inspiration to eventually do so.

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