This post was updated on 7/5/2025 .

One day in June 2016 it dawned on me that I was in heaven. That week I’d been in Burlington, Vermont visiting a friend. We spent most of my five-day visit together, but on this particular day when we visited the working Shelburne Farms, she left me alone to wander the miles of trails by myself. Several factors brought me to this moment of bliss: that I was alone; that I was surrounded by nature and birdsong; and that I was safe.

Yes, that I was safe. And by that I mean I was as far removed as you can get from that low-grade fear you have as a woman walking down a dark street. I'm talking here about fear of human threats, not natural ones. That fear has kept me safe, but it steals from the pleasure I get when I am in nature, and it keeps me from venturing out alone very often.

You know from past posts that I love birding with friends, and there's that thing about a group and safety in numbers.

But sometimes I want to experience a place alone, and meet birds as a solitary, quiet admirer. Make that a solitary quiet admirer of the whole setting--There is something about the way the summer wind shimmers the maple and cottonwood leaves, creating that sea of sound that is so soothing. And even with the breeze the birdsong is audible in layers, and with no one else around, the birds are confident, even curious about me, if I am lucky.

Sun dappled path along the Farm Trail at Shelburne Farms, VT.

The Farms are privately run as a working non-profit and serve both as a spectacular demonstration and working farm, and as a wildlife sanctuary. The landscape of fields and woodland islands created 100 years ago have matured and provide habitat for hundreds of bird species. Another friend back in Seattle had recommended Shelburne for the birding, so in planning this trip, it was the only request I made of my host for my time on the ground.

And the place delivered. Nesting Bobolinks and Savannah Sparrows in the grasslands; Eastern Wood-Peewees and Great-crested Flycatchers in the woods; and my first Indigo Bunting along the forest edge. Plus the view across Lake Champlain west to New York and the Adirondacks in the distance. The moments I indulged in stopping to look back on the path, I was admiring my surroundings, not shuddering in dread of someone jumping me. It was total freedom to be alone and not be afraid.

Because birding alone for hours far from help got me thinking, how few places are really safe for a solitary woman to be out birding, at all. That I felt completely safe in this contained "wilderness" of a private farm--which charges entry fee and is surrounded by a fence--didn't escape me. The Farm felt like endless countryside, yet it wasn't. Its barriers kept out opportunistic harassers. I would never have let my guard down like this in a city park, on a hike, or camping; in those environments, a lone female out there by herself, on public land no less, and still not feeling safe.

I wonder if my guy birder friends have this same concern when they are out alone in the field. Those with expensive gear might worry about theft, but what else would they worry about? This is not a rhetorical question. I'm going to ask them.

Women’s participation in birding is already constrained, without even considering personal safety

Women are scrutinized as “serious birders” for other societal constraints within a culture of birding designed by men. If you want to read an infuriating study that points out the gender differences in birding practitioners, the title alone tells you where it’s going: Gender-Based Differences in Birdwatchers' Participation and Commitment.

“Commitment.” Huh. The 2008 study concludes women are less committed to birding by definition of expertise and time on the ground doing the thing. Only child rearing is mentioned as a possible constraint to women being more involved in birding commitment and participation, and suggested as the reason women don’t participate until they are older (once children are grown). The study does not consider women being interested in birding while active as mothers and lacking societal support to bird recreationally around caregiving. In that way caregiving responsibilities are doubly constraining to women’s participation.

The study does not mention constraints of personal safety, racial identity, or outright hostility (such as from those in charge maintaining the birding hegemony like board memberships, award recognition, publication and speaking opportunities, etc (men and women both—this study was co-written by a woman).

And when we do breach these above expectation for expertise and time on the ground, we might be still be limited for access and feeling safe by virtue of gender.

There was a moment 20 years ago when, woozy from the 100 degree heat as I stood next to my Italian guide along an isolated channel in the Po River delta, it occurred to me that I knew nothing about him. He'd been word of mouth from the Italian bird advocacy group Lipu, and we'd communicated only by email prior to my hiring him. It was a leap of faith that I took, trusting him to guide me. Yet suddenly I had doubts. And here we were, looking for a Pied Avocet, and no one would hear me scream.

The thought sullied the previous ease of our interaction, and distracted me from the rest of the day's birding. Am I so programmed as a woman to fear for my safety that I can't loosen up when all usual signs indicate the guy is safe? Whatever the "usual signs" may be?

Ultimately the day ended and I gave him a big tip, feeling guilty for doubting his integrity. But I never forgot the discomfort of the situation, for my being female and alone and not feeling safe.

WELL...after all that, here are some beautiful photos from my walk across the properties of Shelburne Farms, which I heartily recommend to anyone wanting a solitary stroll and birds galore.

Since the original writing of this post in 2016 there are more resources than ever for women wanting to bird alone. From Purbita Saha’s article at Audubon about the ambiguity of Birding Pal (which links to this very post, thank you!) to Melissa Hafting’s source-filled blog post about the dangers for women birding alone and what to do about it, this need for safety for femme-identified birders has not gone away. Add to this the racism, homophobia and transphobia that persists outdoors and is distinct from my own experience as a cis-gendered, hetero white woman. Women need to claim our space, support and believe each other and enroll male allies to have our back.

Also, the photos on this original post were filtered—something I regret, but which was popular at the time of the original writing in 2016.