Pictures and patterns are the language of my mind. When I look at a field, I see each blade of grass, the shape of shadows, and the perfect syntax of branches. Only then do I notice the Ruby-crowned Kinglet glaring back through the hackberry tree. Like many autistics with attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder, I’ve gone through my share of hyperfixations. Growing up in Washington state, I had Pileated Woodpeckers drumming in my yard, Tree Swallows nesting in my air ducts, and Bald Eagles perching on the highway lights. Nature’s majesty was commonplace, but I found myself drawn to more reclusive interests: coin-collecting, abnormal psychology, and the Dada art movement. It wasn’t until my 30s, when I moved to Texas, that I noticed how special the avian world is. After getting lost in the sharp, inky details of a Black-crested Titmouse, I started seeking out birds and discovered that brief, 15-minute forays into the outdoors would calm and refresh my brain. 7752 As an...