The book, published in June, shares Hafting’s perspective on how birds can lift us up—and what we owe them in return. Her short essays are paired with selections of her photographs, which show a wide range of species near her home in Canada and far beyond. A mountain bluethroat, a favorite of her mother’s, reminds Hafting of happy memories the two shared together in nature. The spotted owl, nearly extinct in British Columbia after heavy logging of old-growth forests, connects Hafting to the importance of preserving bird habitats. And the ʻAkiapolaʻau, an elusive Hawaiian honeycreeper, embodies the thrill of seeking out rare birds.

Hafting is passionate about sharing the joy she finds in birds with others: she manages the British Columbia Rare Bird Alert page and founded the BC Young Birders Program in 2014 to build an inclusive community for pre-teens and teens. interested in the hobby. And she’s passionate about supporting her bird neighbors in return: advocating for ethical bird photography practices, working on local conservation projects, and educating others about climate change and habitat destruction. To her, it’s the least we can do for the creatures that bring us comfort and beauty. “Who knows how many tomorrows I have left in my life,” Hafting writes, “but every morning will be for the birds.”

Audubon spoke with Hafting about her book, her healing journey, and her work toward a better future for birds and people. The following conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

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Audubon: I would like to know a little more about the background of Dare to birdwatchWhat prompted you to create this book?

After my mother died, I started writing this book because I was grieving so much. My mother died of breast cancer in December 2021, on Christmas Eve. Grief took so much out of me. You don’t sleep, you don’t eat, you have stomach aches, there are a lot of physical things. I just found that birds were something that distracted me and gave me some peace of mind, and also allowed me to grieve in public. If you’re crying or sad, the birds don’t care.

And then, after my father died – he died suddenly in February 2023, on my mother’s birthday – I had to add even more to the book, because it was a whole new, complex kind of grief. The book was meant to be a love letter to birds, explaining how birds have helped me through grief, how they can help others through the difficult times that they’re going through. And not just focusing on the grief and the negative things, but the joy that they bring to people and why it’s important to save them.

Audubon: In the book you share some memories of birdwatching with your parents. What were those experiences like?

My dad was the first person to take me birding. I was 5 years old when he started. He bought me my first Golden Field Guide and took me to places like Reifel Bird Sanctuary in Delta, British Columbia. He taught me how to hand-feed chickadees, so Black-capped Chickadees were my spark bird.

I loved birding with my mother. She wasn’t a birder, but she loved seeing certain birds. Before she died, I took her on a road trip. It was the last road trip we ever took together. I took her to a region in British Columbia called the Cariboo region. She saw so many bluebirds, yellow-headed blackbirds, and lots of ducks and waterfowl that were nesting. I loved being able to do that for her, even though she was very sick. She was mostly birding in the car because she could barely walk.

She died at home, as [per] her wishes, and there was a hospital bed in the house. I put it by the window so she could watch the birds in her yard. She could barely talk at that point, and you could still see the birds lifting her up just before she died – watching Anna’s hummingbirds and yellow American goldfinches. Birds bring joy to people even in their last moments. And I am so grateful to them for bringing my mother some joy just before she died.

Audubon: Photography is a big part of the book. Can you talk about how bird photography became a part of your life, alongside birdwatching?

Well, it’s actually my dad, again, who gave me my first camera around 2014. I was mostly shooting small shots with a point-and-shoot. But when my dad gave me a DSLR camera and lens, which made me start photographing birds and how much fun it brings.

Now I just really love taking pictures of birds because it allows you to keep the memories of things you saw. I have so many pictures that I took with my mom and dad and I will never forget them. It freezes the beauty in your mind.

Audubon: I also love this idea that you shared in the book, that birds themselves go through a lot of hardship and are resilient. What can we learn from them as we deal with our own struggles and losses?

Birds are resilient. They go through terrible things during their migration, and many of them still make it to the other end. Their young are predated, and they keep going, they keep reproducing. They have to struggle to find food.

It’s a parallel to people, who are going through the same thing: rising food prices, loss and grief, heavy migrations to find places where it’s better to live. I just want people to see the strength that they have to keep going when they feel like their world is falling apart. They can see how birds keep going too. Despite all these challenges, with climate change and everything that’s affecting them, [birds are] still there. And that’s why we have to keep protecting them, so that we don’t lose them altogether, because the world would be a much darker place without them.

Audubon: Can you tell us something about how you put these ideas into practice and what your work looks like in supporting birds?

I started a project here for a nest box for a tree swallow and a purple martin [in Richmond, B.C.]and it has been successful in raising lots of chicks. We don’t have many places for tree swallows and purple martins to nest naturally, so they need help. I do a lot of public education on how we can protect birds. I talk to the young people I work with and get them involved in volunteer projects. The young people have such a passion for conservation, which is really nice to see because they are the ones who are left to protect them when we are gone.

I also did a big project, with rodenticide. I was part of a group here that got the province of British Columbia to ban rodenticide, and it was a long fight, but we kept going. So I encourage people to not give up and actually write to your government officials about these things, because it can make a difference. Even though you may feel powerless sometimes, you do have power, and especially when people work together. We saw so many owls – barn owls, tawny owls, great horned owls – die from rodenticide. Hopefully this will help them.

Audubon: You’ve also done a lot of work to make birdwatching as a hobby more inclusive. How would you describe where we are now in making birdwatching welcoming to all kinds of people?

I think we still have a lot of work to do, because birding is still predominantly white and male-dominated. But there’s definitely a lot more education and awareness about the barriers that BIPOC people go through, LGBTQ+ people go through. And I’m also seeing more active engagement from these groups of people: organizing walks for them, groups for them, trying to get the message of inclusivity out there.

That was never the case when I was a young child. I never saw anyone who looked like me. You see a lot more women, and a lot more people of color are coming into the hobby now, which is great. The more people the better, to protect birds. And birds are for everyone, you know. No one owns the birds. There’s still a lot of work to do to make people feel welcome, but I think we’re definitely on the right track, finally.

Audubon: Where would you say you are in your journey through grief, now that you have written this book and shared it with the world?

Well, sadness is something that never goes away, honestly. These people were so important to me. I loved them so much. And anyone who has experienced it knows that you never get over it. Birds have helped me learn to live with my sadness, to accept my sadness, and to continue to see the joy and beauty in the world. And for that, I am so grateful for them.

Dare to birdwatchby Melissa Hafting, 224 pages, $45.00. Available here from Rocky Mountain Books.