How birds inspired me to advocate for my hearing loss
Birding in southwest Uganda on the slopes of the Virunga volcanoes. Photo by Burt Glazier.
I was born with a progressive form of genetic hearing loss that has vastly affected the course of my life. The only name they gave me was "Genetic cookie bite type hearing loss" in the ranges of 400 to 500 HZ — the range where most human speech is. It was first noticed in elementary school, when people around me realized I couldn't hear the teacher, my parents or my siblings. Very little was done to make the classroom accessible for me. My grades suffered catastrophically and I barely managed to graduate high school. At that point I was ready to give up on education; the classroom was not a place I wanted to be as I saw it purely as a place of frustration. I signed up to join the US Marine Corps, but I was rejected due to my hearing. Instead, I found myself studying biology at Pacific Lutheran University in Washington state.
The first semester at PLU was rocky, and my first biology class was a nightmare. I could not hear anything the professor said, and being one of forty students in a large lecture hall with no amplification was not helpful. I missed key information that was not written down, which put me so far behind I dropped the course. I would go on to drop many of the courses that were taught by professors I couldn't hear, or which were held in large lecture halls. This effectively ended my biology degree track and destroyed my GPA.
The saving grace was the smaller classes in smaller rooms. I took classes on history of exploration, painting, and Shakespeare purely out of curiosity, which were held in much more accommodating spaces than any of the biology classes. It would be that Shakespeare class with Dr. Charles Bergman that would change my life forever.
Despite nearly failing Dr. Bergman's Shakespeare class, in a meeting with him I expressed my frustrations and my intentions to drop out of my undergraduate degree. Hearing this, he offered me a spot in his next class, which included a trip to Antarctica. This is not something you can say no to!
A Wandering Albatross: The bird that sealed my fate as a birder. Photo by Kevin Lester.
This trip to Antarctica was the catalyst for the passion for adventure and travel that carries me to this day. In that course I learned about birding, wildlife literature, and the open ocean. The bird that sealed my fate as a lifelong birder was the Wandering Albatross. Seeing these gargantuan birds up close gliding effortlessly over the roughest seas in the world was something that left me speechless and in love with birds.
The impact of this experience on my life cannot be understated. Upon returning home, I became an obsessive birder and passionate about wildlife. For the remainder of my undergraduate degree, I pursued more fine art and art history courses which didn't require me to hear everything the professor said in order to produce great work. My grades sky-rocketed and I became more and more involved in the natural world through birding. I traveled with Dr. Bergman to the Amazon, Galapagos, Peru, and again to Antarctica, each time falling more and more in love with birding and wildlife. This new identity gave me the energy to do something about my hearing. I began interrupting professors when I couldn't hear them, I reserved seats at the front of the lecture halls, and I demanded written information about what was being said. I even tried hearing amplifiers that were way out of my financial ability, but these did not help my particular type of hearing loss. (I don’t have a problem hearing sound at either end of the spectrum, so amplifying it isn’t helpful. I just can’t hear sounds in the middle of the audiogram.)
This new identity [as a birder] gave me the energy to do something about my hearing. I began interrupting professors when I couldn't hear them, I reserved seats at the front of the lecture halls, and I demanded written information about what was being said.
In 2018 I was accepted into a Masters degree in Environmental Studies at The Evergreen State College (TESC). TESC was a much more considerate campus when it came to accessibility. I was not met with any pushback when I asked for hearing accommodations in my courses, and I flourished as a result. Using my background in art and passion for wildlife, I excelled at Geographic Information Systems (high-tech map making) and designed an ambitious thesis using my new skills. From 2019 to 2020 I would spend three seasons living aboard my own small sailboat in the southern Puget Sound, counting marine mammals and recording their movements. Using new GIS technology and statistical software, I found that most of the species I observed change where they spend their time depending on the time of year, despite living in the same region year-round. GIS is now my career. I work extensively with international companies, National Geographic, ESRI, and at my full-time job with the Northwest Indian Fisheries Commission.
When I am birding in a group trying to stay quiet, all verbal communication is near impossible for me to understand. I am met with phrases like, "Get your ears checked." Or, "Are you stupid? Why can't you understand me?" when I ask someone to repeat themselves.
Throughout this journey, birding has been central to my sanity. Whenever I felt overwhelmed or frustrated, I made the time to go birding. Unfortunately, even this relaxing activity is not immune to my struggles with hearing loss. There are some very hard-to-find species in my area of the world which have calls in the tone range I cannot hear. When I am birding in a group trying to stay quiet, all verbal communication is near impossible for me to understand. I am met with phrases like, "Get your ears checked." Or, "Are you stupid? Why can't you understand me?" when I ask someone to repeat themselves. I find these events to be more frustrating than they are worth, so I rarely interact with other birders.
Alex, my guide, and I trying to photograph a Black-crowned Waxbil, Semuliki, Central Uganda. Photo by Burt Glazier.
Birding internationally in areas where there are no English speaking guides is the best for me. Verbal communication is already out of the question due to language barriers, so visual cues are the primary way of pointing out a bird. I find it particularly helpful when a guide has a book or app, and they show me a picture of the species, then point. This way I know what I am looking for and where in the environment to look, and I can usually find the bird right away. If this approach was more common in group bird outings back home I would definitely attend more of them.
So far, since 2014, I have photographed 962 species of birds, and I have no intention of slowing down!
Making birding events and classrooms more accessible for individuals who are hard of hearing:
Provide written information about all topics you are going to cover, and have a list of all essential resources with descriptions.
Don't assume that a student is aloof or disinterested all the time. (It is very boring to sit in a room if you have no idea what's going on because the speaker is mumbling.)
Provide dedicated seats in the front of the event for those who need hearing accessibility.
Project your voice! Using a microphone (no matter how loud you think you are) is even better.
If videos with sound are a part of the presentation, please always include closed captions.
Chinstrap Penguins, Antarctica. Photo: Kevin Lester.
For birding groups:
Have an app or field guide handy to show instead of tell.
Let the person who is hard of hearing know what bird or bird sound you heard, and from which direction the sound came.
If you are asked to repeat yourself, don't get frustrated or shout the words instead. (Shouting can be even harder to understand than mumbling, and it will likely scare away the birds.)
If I don't react to what you said, I probably just didn't hear you. Don't take it personally, but please do try again. Taping me on my shoulder or getting my attention visually will help me know you want to communicate with me.
Be patient, be nice, help each other out, and don't get competitive. I want to enjoy the birds as much as you do!
