Mixed Flock: Sommer Ackerman

In this new series, we celebrate the diversity of our BirdLife flock by interviewing individuals who add their character and perspective to our global partnership, starting with Sommer Ackerman.
In birding, a mixed flock can be the most exciting discovery. You never know which species will be found together, each with their own individual characters, ways of feeding, moving and acting, but part of a unified whole. Each bird has their own role to play in the group, forming an alliance that is stronger than the sum of its parts.
In this new series, we celebrate the diversity of our BirdLife flock by interviewing individuals who add their character and perspective to
our global partnership.
‘Unboxing’ birding with Sommer Ackerman
Sommer Ackerman (they/them) is an environmental and social justice activist and birder who organises regular queer birding walks in Finland. They speak openly to us about their birding journey, sharing observations, frustrations and excitement at ‘unboxing’ the birding scene.
It’s a beautiful day in Helsinki, Finland, forming irresistible conditions for Sommer Ackerman to be sitting outside and feeling deeply connected to the natural world. As if on cue, a blast of clear, fluty birdsong marks the presence of a Eurasian Blackcap, prompting Sommer to apologise for the distraction. But it’s only recently that birds have become an important part of their life, inspired by friends going on walks, chatting about life and activism. “I’m autistic,” Sommer explains, “so sometimes a special interest develops, and that kind of happened with birding. I went one day and then I would go the next day and then the next day.”
Despite this enthusiasm, two problems soon came up: a lack of knowledge, and a lack of access to other birders’ expertise. As the saying goes, birds of a feather flock together – sometimes to the detriment of newcomers. Sommer explains their struggles: “I realised that it was really difficult to learn anything because I would go to a bird tower and sometimes the only people there were significantly older men.” Their differences meant a feeling of unwelcomeness was apparent, “perhaps because I appeared unfamiliar and younger,” they muse; “maybe I didn’t ‘look the part’ to them. I’m often read as a woman and I wear visible signs of my queer identity – I might come wearing activist pins or rainbow flags.”
That’s not to say every birder is a bad egg – kind and generous individuals have taken the time to talk, making an enormous difference. But overall, a sense of being the outsider looking in led to frustration, a feeling that learning was impossible and progress was slow. “I was meeting people and they would always say things like ‘what’s your number? How many birds have you seen this year?’ They had been birding and had seen so many birds, so I questioned why I wasn’t seeing as many as them.” Sommer pauses, grimacing at the thought of their next words: “I felt so terrible going birding, I wanted to quit.”


To their credit, Sommer put these negative thoughts aside and channelled their energy and anguish into creating a new space for budding birders to feel welcome. They built a birdwatching group for like-minded young people to share knowledge and get interested in the avian world – a collective where everyone could learn from one another, much like BirdLife’s Partnership. Sommer would lead discussions about environmental policy on birding tours, about the threats that the birds face, how these topics were related and what people could do about it.
After realising a significant number of the attendees were queer, the question of ‘why not just have trips for queer people?’ was prompted. What followed was the formation of a big community, which resonated deeply with Sommer: “I know that being with people who are like you, having that community is really important.” When archetypal birders would come together, their similarities and sense of togetherness meant they could slot in with one another far more easily than Sommer could enter their group. Adding further discouragement, some individuals could be dismissive: “I get asked ‘Oh, did you really see that bird?’ as if people don’t believe that I’ve seen something that I say I have.”
This limited view led Sommer to examine the science behind birds and their behaviours, and how humans’ scientific understanding of the field has been limited due to societal biases. If misconceptions – such as the early belief that female birds don’t sing – get into data collection, we have a significant problem. Already, female birds are under-reported and we are uncovering misunderstandings of certain species’ behaviours because of observer bias. If these mis-held views enter the public sphere, it steamrolls misinformation. The whole system would need a new mindset to reach better understanding.
Sommer suggests that looking at the way that we understand nature also helps us to avoid being biased towards people. We can wrongly project our identities onto birds, perhaps viewing them in a ‘queer way’. “We could look at the Ruff and its four ‘sexes’,” Sommer explains – males use three different breeding strategies and form mixed leks of birds all trying their technique on females. “There are some articles that are very limited in the way they talk about this subject. Where a species has a female that acts with traditionally ‘male’ characteristics, it might say ‘this tomboy bird’. How can a bird be a tomboy? That doesn’t make any sense! It’s a human perception, and we can’t apply those to birds. I don’t think people would be happy to say that a female bird that develops an appearance to look more male or vice-versa would be called transgender.”
We shouldn’t put or project human words, concepts or identities onto birds, but the way we see and comprehend things shapes our view of nature. That’s why a truer understanding of the natural world, with more acceptance, will help us understand and recognise ourselves. As Sommer explains, “People really like to put things into boxes, but that’s just not how it is – everything is more fluid. The natural world is full of variation and fluidity that don’t fit neat boxes. People are the same! We should be defining people by their actions, and the same with birds, watching them and trying to understand rather than applying constraints on them.”


It’s a mindset of openness and curiosity. Such a greater understanding and acceptance are key factors in Sommer’s connection to nature – perhaps shaped by their autism and not feeling understood in human settings. There’s a simplicity and clarity to this experience: “When birds are happy, they will sing. When birds are in distress, you’ll hear them cry. Being a human, I feel the same – I feel understood by the birds. The way they act is the way I feel.” Free of judgement, it is far more straightforward to truly see and be seen.
These feelings come back to Sommer’s aims within the accepting and open birding groups they create. “I’m trying to get people to build connection with each other and kind of just appreciate nature in a very simple way because it’s a big diversity of who comes on these trips,” they explain. Experts and novices come together, walk around and get excited about the birds around them. “Oh look, there’s an eagle over there. Look how cool that is!” Sommer mimes enthusiastically, smiling from ear to ear.
Such jubilation can sit in stark contrast to their experiences elsewhere. “I went birding and saw a Citrine Wagtail that I’d been wanting to see for years,” they recount. “When I saw it, I shouted, ‘I found it, I found it,’ and I realised everyone else was silent and just looking at me.” A shadow of disillusionment crosses their face: “I felt so judged.” Things are different in the community of birders Sommer has brought together, where everyone can be as excited as they want, jumping together and feeling liberated in their enthusiasm. There is no right or wrong way to go birding, but an understanding and acceptance of the different ways people and groups enjoy birds will help us form a more diverse and united mixed flock across the globe.
It requires a change of mindset from the ‘box-ticking’ exercises on which some birders embark. Sommer has clear experience of this world view: “I’ll find people with massive cameras and they’ll just go there and take a picture of the bird, then walk away immediately. They’ll say, ‘I’ve got a point’ and boast.” Instead, Sommer encourages anyone who is interested in birds to go out, find or form a community and enjoy the natural world together, regardless of differences. “I would like for the typical people and the typical associations to have a broader mindset and be more welcoming to every single different birder there could be.”
“I would like for the typical people and the typical associations to have a broader mindset and be more welcoming to every single different birder there could be.”
Sommer ackerman
At BirdLife, we are proud of our mixed flock of local Partners, communities and individuals, united in our mission to conserve birds and all life. Together, we share our knowledge and an appreciation of the natural world, for all to enjoy.
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