Bird is the Word for This Nature-Loving BU Historian

CAS History Professor James Johnson discusses his passion for photographing birds

| in Faculty, Features

BY MARC CHALUFOUR

Historians can spend months, years, even decades searching archives for an elusive artifact or document. Even when they know what they are seeking and where it might reside, luck is sometimes required to make that big discovery. The same can be said of another pastime, carried out in a very different setting: Birdwatching.

Jim Johnson
James Johnson, looking for birds in Oregon. Photo courtesy of James Johnson

James Johnson, a professor of history and chair of the history department, knows the highs and lows of both pursuits. Johnson is the author of two books—Listening in Paris: A Cultural History (University of California Press, 1996) and Venice Incognito: Masks in the Serene Republic (University of California Press, 2017) with a third, Paris Concealed: Masks in the City of Light, awaiting publication. He’s also an avid bird photographer who often explores the area around his home near Freeport, Maine, in hopes of capturing a shot of a warbler or a cedar waxwing.

Johnson recently spoke with arts&sciences from Venice, where he spent part of his summer combing archives for a new book idea, about his hobby and his profession.


arts&sciences: When did you become interested in birds?

Common yellowthroat. Photo by James Johnson

James Johnson: I had a roommate in graduate school who was an expert birder and he would often talk about birds. It was inspiring and incredibly impressive. That planted a seed. In 2008 my wife got a job at Colby College [in Waterville, Maine] and we figured out a way for me to continue teaching at BU while living in Portland. That’s really when I got into it. In 2018 we moved to the Freeport area, where we live in the country and are surrounded by woods that are filled with birds year-round. I’ve always been interested in photography. My pastime of photography and being in Maine brought it all together.

arts&sciences: What’s the appeal of photographing birds?

Cedar waxwing. Photo by James Johnson

Johnson: Part of it is the challenge of trying to capture a moment in time, which is something other than just birdwatching. You have just an instant most of the time, especially with warblers—they never stay still. And then to marvel at a photo—you can look at the bird in a way you never can in nature. I think the more knowledge you have about a particular species, the more prepared you are to try to capture it on film. There’s an element of listening, an element of patience, and a lot of waiting—with no assurance that you’ll have a chance at a good photo.

arts&sciences: What does this time spent in nature do for you?

Johnson: A really important part of it is to be reminded of a world that’s not our world, and to treasure the lives of these creatures. The direct experience of nature is not mediated, which is increasingly rare in our lives.

arts&sciences: What are some of your favorite birds?

Cedar Waxwing
Wilson’s warbler. Photo by James Johnson

Johnson: The cedar waxwing, which is beautiful and mysterious. I love the songs of thrushes: the hermit thrush, the wood thrush, and the veery. These birds have a double syrinx, i.e., two voice boxes. This is what gives them such an eerie, otherworldly sound. It’s a thrill to hear any one of these birds.

arts&sciences: Are there any similarities between your interest in birds and work as a historian?

Atlantic puffin. Photo by James Johnson

Johnson: Studying history, understanding past lives, involves our creative imagination alongside factual knowledge. The first step in learning from the past is to set aside our own expectations so we can understand values and attitudes that aren’t ours. Then we can start to ask, ‘What can we learn about our lives from these very different lives?’ Part of the beauty of nature and its creatures is that this world is not entirely our world. To capture its foreignness in an image is analogous to grasping the past with understanding and imagination. This awareness enriches our own lives—it makes us wiser, more alert and open, and less self-centered as individuals and as a species.

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