On a spring morning two years ago, I rounded the corner on County Highway M in my little blue car. I lifted my foot off the gas pedal as I neared the reduced speed limit on the east side of Cable and something caught my eye to my left. An osprey hovered over the wetland with a large stick grasped in its talons. He repeatedly tried to balance the stick on one of the towering utility poles.
Today I took the same route into work and found my eyes scanning the poles again for activity. In fact, I have glanced in that direction automatically nearly every day since the osprey's nest-building attempts. The pole isn't wide enough to support a nest and there has been no activity since. But my glance to the left has become a habit explained by the science of behavior.
This habit of mine started with one instance of powerful reinforcement. Seeing the osprey was so reinforcing, or rewarding, for me that I kept glancing that direction every time I drove by, hoping to see the osprey again. My behavior has been maintained for two years through all seasons, I think, because of the addictive nature of nature.
Karen Pryor explains in her animal (and human) training book that gambling can become so addictive due to a variable schedule of reinforcement: you just never know when you'll get a big payout. You always hope the next hand will win big, so you keep playing.
Observing nature is my version of gambling. Instead of a monetary payout, I just never know when I'll find an interesting bird, salamander, or moss. These rare instances of catching a fascinating behavior or discovering a rare species always keeps me coming back to the woods, exploring and observing. I'll keep watching the utility poles because I just might catch another exciting observation next time I drive by.
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