My story

Liz Austin · Bird Communication Researcher & Nature Educator

It started with a fifth grade science fair project: Birds of Our Backyard.

My journey into bird communication began early — before I had the language to call it that. Growing up with my dad who was editor for National Wildlife Magazine and my mom who was a Master Gardener, we were encouraged to observe patterns in the natural world. Birds were everywhere: tracing the skies above our yard, appearing in the wildlife photography that passed through our house, and filling the slides at the National Audubon lecture series my parents took us to on Sundays at our local opera house.

That’s when I first began to realize that the birds outside our window are part of something much larger and that nature discovery becomes more meaningful as a shared experience.

A childhood of observation

In grade school, my first major science fair project was Birds of Our Backyard. It required real patience — documenting species, noting behavioral shifts, listening for variation in calls. Looking back, I was already beginning to study communication without knowing it. Those quiet hours of watching and listening taught me focus, attentiveness, and the subtle ways life speaks — lessons that continue to shape how I approach exploring the natural world today.

Music as a first language

Communicating through music was the first language I learned. I started playing the violin and learning how to read music at age 5, and began playing in an orchestra by age 7.

This early introduction to translating the notes on the page and understanding the conversation between instruments taught me to listen deeply, recognize nuance, and respond with awareness.

I went on to receive my BA in Music. This understanding gave me a lifelong appreciation for the fact that listening is a skill that transcends words. While on a hike or simply standing in the yard, I’m constantly aware of the acoustic world around me: a bird pair duetting, a choral flock moving overhead. A symphony of language in the trees.

Learning across cultures

Travel has been a constant teacher in communication. On my first trip to China, I traveled by train to a remote school as the only American on board, before I learned to speak Chinese. I communicated entirely through sketches and gestures — discovering the power of curiosity, improvisation, and non-verbal understanding.

Later, studying applied linguistics at the University of Limerick in Ireland gave me the tools to analyze language as a system, and offered a lens for noticing the sophisticated communication happening in nature.

At Middlebury College, ornithology courses gave structure to my early instincts, and tracking snow geese across Vermont reinforced something I’d felt since childhood: bird communication is observable, patterned, and deeply meaningful.

With an MA in Linguistics and Adult Education, I’ve spent more than two decades studying how communication works — in humans and in the species we share the world with.

From field work to global communications

That work has taken me into unexpected arenas: leading international communication initiatives for organizations including Disney, the Summer and Winter Olympic Games, and University College London.

Immersed in these international contexts, I found myself inspired to continue learning languages — French, Russian, and Mandarin — to better understand the worlds I was stepping into.

Each adventure deepened my experience of how meaning is discovered and understood across very different contexts. Birds, it turns out, are among its most sophisticated practitioners.

Experiencing nature in a meaningful way

Bird Translations evolved out of my love for birds and my desire to share and translate the nature moments happening outside my window — as well as what’s happening beneath the surface in the bird world and in our environment.

By combining my background in linguistics, communications, music, and a lifelong practice of close observation, I invite others to decode the language of nature with me — from the birds in our backyards to the trees we pass by on the trails.

Tail and wing movements, contact calls, migratory language exchanges, coordinated duets: each one is part of an observable system, shaped by environment and social context.

I now live near several conservation areas where seasonal bird migrations are part of our daily life. Every spring, we’re delighted by sandhill cranes and pelicans taking respite near our neighborhood lake — their reliable arrival is a continual source of joy and wonder we look forward to each year.

Observing their annual visits reminds me of what first drew me in as a child: the natural world is full of hidden wonder and it’s evolving constantly. It becomes more meaningful when we take time to understand it and appreciate it together.