As magical as the Merlin app can sometimes be, it does have its limitations, and I had a bit of an epiphany this morning while ruminating on those limitations. It can only use the information that it has. It can’t create its own. As I was trying to figure a way to make Merlin a little bit more magical, I suddenly realized that I’ve been prizing capturing bird photos way more than I have simply experiencing the birds for their own inherent beauty and the magic they’ve brought to my life in such a short time. I’ve been chasing numbers instead of knowledge and understanding.
I suspect this may be a frustration for experienced birders who watch newbies like me running about, snapping away, and then running away to run their photos through Merlin – taking the app’s word as gospel. The tool can be so helpful. It can also be misleading. After all, the app isn’t on the scene, live and in person, as I am. Maybe I need to trust the word of those who’ve birded before me rather than relying on this algorithm, which begs a broader question as algorithms become more and more integrated into our wired lives. Are we not seeing all that’s right before our eyes because it’s easier to look down at our iPhones? Are we seeking easy answers rather than life changing experiences?
Today’s epiphany really brought that scary thought home for me.
Sitting at the lighthouse, looking up instead of down, I realized with joy and some astonishment that I was able to identify all of the different duck species on the salt pond before me without Merlin. I know these ducks because I’ve spent a lot of time in their company over the last month. Not because Merlin told me what I was seeing.
Yes, I know my Westerly winter ducks!
Magic.
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