A few years ago, before I left New York City’s honking symphony for San Francisco’s foggy hills, I was neck-deep in my Central Park birding obsession. Central Park wasn’t just my sanctuary. It was a living, chirping museum of feathered drama. I didn’t just watch birds, I mean, I practically lived with them, cataloging their quirks and personalities while taking a break from my small apartment.

Every Sunday, I armed myself with my trusty Nikon Prostaff 3S Binoculars (affectionately nicknamed “Eyeball”), a well-loved copy of The Sibley Guide to Birds, and a granola bar that inevitably ended up crushed at the bottom of my bag. I’d spend hours wandering the Ramble, a birder’s dream maze of winding paths and dense trees (and one time, what looked like a ghost?).

The diversity of species blew my mind every single time. There were the flashy ones, like the scarlet-colored northern cardinal, who always struck me as the park’s main character. Then there were the quieter but equally captivating stars: the white-throated sparrow, with its haunting, melodic song, and the black-and-white warbler, a monochrome acrobat scaling tree trunks.

But the showstopper for me was the elusive wood duck. If you’ve ever seen one, you know what I mean because they look like someone dipped a duck in an explosion of neon paint and glitter, then hit “saturation.” One spring morning, I spotted one near the Loch, the north end of the park. It felt like a reward for all those cold mornings I’d spent freezing my toosh off watching mallards and Canada geese bicker like old married couples.

And then, of course, there were the monk parakeets. I’d read about them at 2 a.m., or maybe it was 3….in some shady corner of Bird Internet (Yes kids, before TikTok, ChatGPT and such, that was how you got information). I eventually tracked them down to the southwestern edge of the park, near the old stone arches. Their raucous squawks and bright green feathers were such a weird, joyful contrast to the muted tones of city life.

My Central Park Birding Essentials

If you’re planning to explore Central Park, or any birding hotspot, you’ll want the right gear. Here’s what I swear by:

1. Binoculars

Birds like the tiny, hyperactive ruby-crowned kinglet won’t wait for you to get closer. Nikon Prostaff 3S Binoculars offer a crisp, close-up view without being bulky.

2. Field Guide

The Book Review: The Sibley Guide to Birds by David Allen Sibley is a birder’s bible. It helped me differentiate between a swamp sparrow and a song sparrow, which is like telling twins apart if they’re wearing the exact same outfit.

3. Comfortable Shoes

You’ll want something lightweight but sturdy. Central Park is huge, and the trails in the Ramble can be uneven. These hiking shoes are a good choice.

4. A Good Camera

I’ll do a separate post on cameras, because it’s a rabbit hole, but for now, this is a good one.

The Birds I Miss Most

Now that I’m in San Francisco, I have parrots and they are beautiful, but a bit unhinged. They don’t feel the same as the wood thrush in the Ramble, whose ethereal song cut through the city’s constant roar. Or the red-tailed hawks, who’d perch on the light posts of Central Park West.

It’s not just the birds I miss, though. It’s the unpredictability of it all. Central Park birding was like opening a grab bag every time: warblers during spring migration, snow geese taking a wrong turn, or even an escaped exotic pet (shoutout to the time I saw a zebra finch casually chilling near Belvedere Castle).

Birding taught me that even in a city as overwhelming as New York, there’s magic if you look for it. You just need good binoculars, a sense of adventure, and maybe a granola bar you’ll actually remember to eat (quick affiliate moment: these bars are pretty good).