Sharing the Experience
From Spring Migration to the Adventures That Follow
People often ask me why I spend so much time photographing birds, writing blogs, creating calendars and prints, or leading photography workshops.
If you’re just joining me, this is Part 3 of my Spring Migration story. In Part 1, I shared the anticipation and excitement as migration began to build in Central Park, and in Part 2, I followed those unforgettable weeks of May as the park filled with birds, photographers, birders, and those unexpected moments that make migration so special.
You can catch up with [Part 1] and [Part 2] before continuing, or simply join me here as the story moves beyond migration and into what comes next.
The answer is really pretty simple.
I enjoy sharing what I’ve experienced.
When I first started photographing, I mostly kept everything to myself or shared it with family and a few close friends. At the time, I had just closed one chapter of my professional career, and not long after that my mother passed away. I was trying to figure out what came next.
I found myself spending more and more time in Central Park.
I’ve always loved living in New York. I love the parks, I love wildlife, and I wanted to find a way to combine all of those things into something meaningful. At first I photographed landscapes and the iconic buildings around the city, but somehow I always drifted back to the parks. Before long I was photographing flowers, squirrels, raccoons, and whatever else crossed my path.
Then one morning something happened that changed everything.
I was walking through the North Woods when suddenly…
Whoosh.
I heard something and felt the wind rush past my head.
I looked up and just ahead of me a Red-tailed Hawk had landed on a wire fence.
It was looking right at me.
I was so stunned I didn’t know what to do. For a couple of seconds I just stood there staring at it.
Then I thought,
“Oh… I have a camera.”
I quietly raised it and started taking photographs.
Even back then I understood that wildlife deserves respect. I stayed where I was, gave the hawk plenty of space, and spoke to it in a calm voice, almost thanking it for allowing me to witness such an incredible moment.
My heart was racing, but not because I was afraid. It was pure excitement.
The hawk stretched its wings.
It looked at me.
It tilted its head.
Then, just as quickly as it had arrived, it flew away.
I just stood there thinking,
“Wow… how magical was that?”
It was such a powerful experience that my next thought was,
“Nobody is ever going to believe this happened.”
Then I looked down at the camera in my hands.
“Wait… I took pictures.”
“I have proof.”
And then I laughed.
“Crap… that was quick.”
I couldn’t wait to get home and tell my family and friends what had happened.
Looking back now, I think that morning changed more than I realized.
I didn’t just want to take photographs anymore.
I wanted to share the experience.
I started showing people my photographs, and before long they began asking questions.
“Where was this taken?”
“What else have you photographed?”
“You should post these online.”
So I did.
Then people started asking another question.
I still remember selling my first print. I was excited that someone wanted one of my photographs, but what made it even more special was telling them the story behind the image. They weren’t just buying a photograph. They were taking home a moment that meant something to me.
That naturally led to calendars.
Someone once told me my photographs looked like they belonged in a calendar. I laughed because I wasn’t even sure what that meant, but in 2017 I created my first wildlife calendar. It sold out, and that’s when I realized people weren’t simply buying photographs. They were connecting with the stories behind them.
From there everything seemed to grow naturally.
People suggested puzzles.
They suggested reusable shopping bags.
They suggested pillow covers.
Sometimes someone would simply look at one of my photographs and say,
“Dennis… that would make a great puzzle.”
Many of the products I create today came from conversations like that.
Whether it’s a calendar, a puzzle, a reusable bag or another gift, I hope every item tells a story. Maybe someone asks where the bird was photographed. Maybe they discover that hummingbirds visit New York City. Maybe it starts a conversation about wildlife.
Bring the wild into your home with our new Wildlife Pillow Covers, now softer and more vibrant than ever. Six to choose from.
Explore our captivating Traditional Puzzle by Dennis Newsham, 1000 pieces. Immerse yourself in wildlife and enjoy this puzzle.
Celebrate the beauty of spring migration in style with this limited-edition Blue Grosbeak Scarf
Introducing our versatile tea towels – crafted with care from 100% cotton, offering a perfect blend of softness and durability. Machine-washable for easy maintenance, these towels showcase color-fast
If it gets someone talking about nature, then it’s done exactly what I hoped it would do.
Over time I realized photographs weren’t the only way to tell those stories.
I began writing more.
Some people I care about were going through difficult times. They were tired of hearing bad news all the time. I wanted to give them something different. Something that could make them smile for a few minutes, introduce them to a new bird, a new place, or simply let them come along on one of my adventures.
If someone finishes one of my blogs smiling, then I feel like I’ve accomplished something worthwhile.
More recently another opportunity came along.
Airbnb contacted me about offering photography experiences in Central Park.
At first I thought it would simply be another photography workshop.
I was wrong.
What I discovered was that what had been missing all along was the interaction.
One experience in particular really stands out.
A young woman had booked the workshop as a birthday present for her boyfriend. He loved photography. She was simply coming along to spend the morning with him.
Before every workshop I spend time getting to know the people I’m meeting. I ask about their camera, their photography experience, whether they’ve visited Central Park before, and what they hope to get out of the morning. Every workshop is different because every person is different.
As we walked through the park, I explained what I was looking for, how I listen for birds before I see them, how I watch the light, and why patience is often more important than camera settings.
Then something wonderful happened.
She became just as involved as he was.
She started spotting birds.
She started pointing them out before either of us noticed them.
She wasn’t just watching anymore.
She had become his spotter.
By the end of the morning they weren’t simply taking photographs.
They were sharing the experience together.
As I rode the subway home that afternoon, I couldn’t stop smiling.
I kept replaying the morning in my head, just like I had after that Red-tailed Hawk flew away years earlier.
That’s when I realized something.
People don’t come on my workshops just to learn camera settings.
They come to slow down.
To notice things they might otherwise walk right past.
To experience Central Park in a different way.
Helping people do that has become one of the most rewarding parts of what I do.
Looking back now, that Red-tailed Hawk had no idea one brief encounter would eventually lead to calendars, blogs, photography workshops, new friendships, and thousands of photographs.
Neither did I.
Wildlife Walk & Photography Workshop Central Park • 5 Star Reviews
Dennis was exceptionally knowledgable and so friendly, he made us feel so welcome and was super forthcoming with great tips and historical background. The walk we went on was great, and has really inspired us to continue birding. We cannot thank Dennis and Caleb enough for a wonderful experience!
Dennis was very friendly and knowledgeable. My partner has a camera and photography experience, and I'm more of a recreational birder and came with binoculars. Dennis made sure we both got something out of the experience. It was great to learn more about wildlife in our "backyard"!
Our wildlife walk with Dennis was fantastic. He and Caleb were extremely knowledgeable, easy to talk to, and went above and beyond to help us learn the basics of birding and wildlife photography. He helped my girlfriend learn the settings on her new camera, and gave us lots of tips and tricks for finding and identifying birds. He even made himself available for any further questions we had as we practice more. Highly recommend!
I had a great experience learning from Dennis. He taught me not only the technical details of my camera, but also a bit of the artistic side of photography. Dennis provided lots of information about photography, wildlife and birds, ideal locations around NYC, and even some stories. Everything went very smoothly, timely, and was an enjoyable time in the park. Would highly recommend.
The Journey Continues
Every year someone asks me the same question.
“What do you do when spring migration is over?”
The truth is, I don’t really think of it as being over.
For me, spring migration is like running a race.
But before I can run that race, I have to prepare for it.
After a long winter, I can’t just pick up my camera and expect everything to fall into place. I have to get myself into migration shape. That means more than making sure my batteries are charged or my camera bag is packed. I have to prepare my body, my mind, and even my soul.
I start walking more. I increase my daily steps. I get outside more often. I pay attention to the little details that I may have forgotten over the winter. I remind myself to slow down, to listen, and to observe. Spring migration reminds me that I can’t become complacent. Nature is always changing, and if I want to experience it fully, I have to prepare myself for it.
That’s one of the reasons I’m glad migration doesn’t arrive all at once.
It starts slowly.
It builds.
Then it reaches a point where everything seems to happen at once.
By May my heart has been racing for weeks. My senses are fully awake. I’m listening for songs, watching every movement in the trees, feeling the weather change from one day to the next, and wondering what might have arrived overnight.
Spring migration is exhilarating.
It’s an awakening.
It’s a rebirth of my senses.
Then, just as quickly as it began, it starts to slow down.
Like any race, you begin to see the finish line ahead. The crowds become smaller. The bird reports become fewer. The last Blackpoll Warblers continue north, and Central Park slowly settles into its summer rhythm.
People are often surprised when I tell them I don’t feel sad.
I really don’t.
Instead, I feel thankful.
I’m grateful for every bird I was able to see, every photograph I was fortunate enough to take, and every conversation I had with friends, old and new, throughout the park.
Life outside the park can be stressful. Work has deadlines. Responsibilities don’t disappear. But every spring, Central Park reminds me to slow down for a while. For a few hours, all that matters is what’s happening around the next bend in the trail.
And I’m always curious enough to keep walking.
Sometimes I tell myself I’ll only stay for an hour.
Then an hour becomes two.
Two becomes three.
I’m always wondering what’s waiting around the next corner.
When migration winds down, Central Park doesn’t become less beautiful.
It simply changes.
The Red-tailed Hawks are raising their families. Cardinals and Blue Jays are still greeting visitors every morning. The pace slows down, giving me a chance to catch my breath before the next adventure begins.
Central Park will always be my home base.
It’s where I learned to bird.
It’s where I learned photography.
It’s where I learned patience.
It’s where I learned that some of life’s greatest moments happen when you simply stop and pay attention.
Because of everything Central Park has given me, I now find myself wanting to explore farther.
Sometimes that’s just across the river into New Jersey.
Other times it’s Delaware, Ohio, North Carolina, or Tennessee.
Every new place feels like an invitation.
Almost like being welcomed into someone else’s home.
Living in New York, people often have their guard up. You understand why. In a city this large, strangers usually approach you because they want something. But birding has a wonderful way of breaking down those barriers.
Instead of wondering why someone is talking to you, the conversation usually begins with a smile and a simple question.
“What are you seeing?”
From there, complete strangers begin sharing bird sightings, favorite trails, funny stories, and the excitement of the morning. Before long, it doesn’t feel like you’re talking to strangers anymore. It feels like you’ve been welcomed into their favorite place, and they’re excited to share it with you.
I love that.
Wildlife has a remarkable way of bringing people together.
One memory from this year’s travels still makes me smile.
A mother Black Bear and her cub were crossing a mountain road. Cars stopped in both directions. Nobody honked. Nobody rushed. People even backed their cars up to give the bears more room.
For those few minutes, no one seemed to care where they were going.
Everyone simply existed in the same moment.
Everyone was smiling.
Everyone was enjoying what they were witnessing.
Back home in New York, if traffic stops unexpectedly, someone usually reaches for the horn within seconds. Here, nobody was impatient.
There was no tension.
Just people quietly appreciating the moment and giving wildlife the space it deserved.
Standing there, I realized something.
No matter where I travel, I keep finding the same thing.
People who care.
People who are willing to help.
People who are excited to share what they’ve discovered.
That gives me hope.
Every trip leaves me wanting to explore a little farther, learn a little more, and discover what’s waiting around the next corner.
Because after all these years, curiosity still wins.
Spring migration may reach the finish line each year.
My journey never does.
Looking Up
Even after a great day of birding, when I’ve seen more birds than I could have hoped for or come home with photographs I’m really proud of, there’s still a part of me that wants more.
What’s around the next corner?
What might arrive tomorrow?
What did I miss today?
That’s when I have to remind myself to be patient.
Tomorrow is a new day.
One of the biggest lessons nature has taught me is to go with what I have, not what I don’t. There will always be another bird I hoped to see or another photograph I wish I had captured. If I spend all my time thinking about what I missed, I’ll miss what’s right in front of me.
I was reminded of that on one of my recent trips. I thought I was looking at a Red-tailed Hawk. As I kept watching, I realized it wasn’t a hawk at all. It was a Barred Owl.
What I hoped to find turned into something even better.
Nature has a wonderful way of doing that.
It reminds me to keep an open mind because sometimes the unexpected becomes the highlight of the day.
That’s what keeps me coming back.
I still love discovering something new.
That might be a bird I’ve never photographed before, a behavior I’ve never noticed, or simply learning something new about a species I’ve been watching for years. One of the wonderful things about nature is that no matter how much I learn, there’s always something more to discover.
I’ve become more patient.
I’ve learned to slow down.
I’ve learned to listen before I speak.
I’ve learned to look up.
I’ve learned to pay attention to the little details because they’re often the ones that matter the most.
Helping other people discover those same things has become just as rewarding as discovering them myself.
When someone asks me why a Red-bellied Woodpecker has so much red on its head, I smile because it’s a chance to teach something new. We laugh together, look a little closer, and before long we’re talking about much more than a woodpecker.
Sometimes someone gets a little too close while photographing a bird and it flies away. They look disappointed, and I usually smile and say, “Well… they do have wings.”
A little humor helps remind us that there will always be another opportunity.
One of the greatest gifts birding has given me isn’t a photograph.
It’s people.
Wildlife has an amazing way of bringing people together.
I’ve made friendships that have lasted for years because someone asked, “What are you looking at?”
I’ve watched guests on my Airbnb Experience discover birds they never knew existed. Reading their reviews afterward and seeing that they wanted to continue birding meant as much to me as anything we photographed that day. Knowing I helped someone begin a journey of their own is incredibly rewarding.
Wildlife has also brought my family together.
Some of my favorite memories aren’t just about the birds we photographed but about the adventures we shared. On one trip my husband, my sister, and I were looking for Cerulean Warblers. We could hear them, but we just couldn’t find them.
Then a man pulled over, rolled down his window, and asked if we wanted to see bears.
We all looked at each other.
“Bears?”
“Let’s go!”
In an instant our plans changed, and so did our adventure.
Those are the moments I treasure most.
Looking back now, I realize birding has given me far more than photographs.
It has given me friendships.
It has given me adventures.
It has given me patience.
It has given me stories worth sharing.
Most of all, it has reminded me that there is still so much good in this world.
Everywhere I’ve traveled I’ve met people willing to help a stranger, share their favorite trail, point out a bird I might have missed, or simply enjoy a special moment together.
Those moments give me hope.
If there’s one thing I hope you take away from these pages, it isn’t that you memorize bird names or become an expert photographer.
I hope you’ll slow down.
I hope you’ll look up.
I hope you’ll spend a little more time outside.
I hope you’ll notice the little details that make each day unique.
I hope you’ll smile at someone on the trail.
You never know where a simple conversation might lead.
Maybe you’ll discover a favorite park of your own.
Maybe you’ll meet someone who becomes a lifelong friend.
Maybe you’ll experience a moment that changes the way you see the world.
A little birding really can go a long way.
It can lead to friendships.
It can lead to adventures.
It can lead to a community.
It can even change the direction of your life.
If people remember me years from now, I don’t hope they remember me because of a particular photograph.
I hope they remember that I enjoyed sharing what I loved.
I hope they remember that I encouraged people.
I hope they remember that I made them smile.
I hope they remember that a little kindness really does go a long way.
You never know what’s around the next corner.
I hope you take the time to find out.
See you birding.
My Blog … Life in Focus: Dennis’s Adventures
If you enjoyed coming along on this journey, you can explore all of my stories from Central Park, wildlife encounters, photography adventures, and travels in my Blog Archive.