That’s what happens when you mix a roomful of nature lovers, a stack of bingo cards and one environmental educator who can make even a grackle sound charming.

Environmental Education Specialist Kylie Orndorf, of the Reeds Gap State Park Complex, brought her popular “Birdsong Bingo” program to Lewistown — and within minutes, the room was buzzing with laughter, friendly competition and more bird calls than a spring morning in Bald Eagle State Forest.

“We hear birds all the time, but we often don’t know who it is we’re hearing,” Orndorf told the crowd. “To be able to put a name and face to the sound brings a new appreciation to the birds we hear on a regular basis.”

And with that, she launched into a fast-paced, joy-filled crash course in bird language.

Photo courtesy of DCNR
Broad-winged Hawk.

Naturalist with a comedic streak

Orndorf’s teaching style is part field biologist, part game-show host, and part stand-up comedian. She doesn’t just play bird calls — she translates them into phrases people can remember.

The Black-capped Chickadee? “Some people hear ‘hey sweetie,'” she said. “Others hear ‘cheeseburgers.’ I’ll let you decide.”

The Eastern Towhee? “He says ‘drink your tea!’ Very politely. Very insistently.”

The Ovenbird? “That’s a great debate,” she said. “Some hear ‘teacher-teacher-teacher!’ Others hear ‘pizza-pizza-pizza!’ I’m team teacher, but I have a co-worker who insists it’s pizza.”

Photo courtesy of DCNR
Bufflehead.

The room erupted when she played the Eastern Screech Owl — a sound she describes as “a horse on helium.”

“I thought the horses near my house were really active,” she said. “Turns out it was an owl.”

And then there was the Common Grackle, whose call she introduced with a grin: “He sounds like a rusty robot sneezing.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Learning through laughter

Before the bingo cards came out, Orndorf walked the group through 15 bird calls — everything from backyard regulars to forest specialists to raptors that sound nothing like Hollywood suggests.

When she played the Bald Eagle’s real call — a series of high-pitched squeaks — the room gasped.

“For our national bird, I understand why movies dub in the Red-tailed Hawk,” she said. “But the accuracy in me doesn’t love it.”

Participants scribbled notes, nodded along and occasionally looked around in disbelief, as if to say, “That noise came from a bird?”

Orndorf reassured them: “These are all birds you can find around here. Maybe not all year long, but at some point or another.”

Then came the bingo cards

Once the crowd had been properly trained — or at least entertained — Orndorf passed out laminated bingo cards, dry-erase markers and paper towels and hand-sanitizer.

“We laminate these so you can wipe them clean,” she said. “Very high-tech.”

The rules were simple: she’d play a call, and participants would mark the bird if they recognized it. The first to get four in a row would shout “BINGO!” The ultimate prizes were Smokey Bear bookmarks.

The first call echoed through the room.

Hands shot up.

“Black-capped Chickadee!”

Correct.

Next call.

“Eastern Screech Owl!”

Correct again.

The room grew louder, more competitive, more confident. People who had never identified a bird by sound were suddenly calling out species like seasoned naturalists.

When someone finally yelled “BINGO!” the room cheered.

“You get a silver medal,” Orndorf joked, handing over a prize with mock ceremony.

Program that makes birding accessible

What makes “Birdsong Bingo” so effective is its blend of science and silliness. Orndorf doesn’t overwhelm beginners with jargon. She gives them memory hooks — funny, strange, unforgettable ones — that make bird calls stick.

She explained how male Red-winged Blackbirds guard up to 15 nests (“He is doing the most”), how Cooper’s Hawks lurk near bird feeders “like feathery little bullies,” and how Turkey Vultures’ bald heads keep them from “getting the smell trapped” while scavenging.

She even shared a personal favorite from her own reading: the Common Eider, a coastal duck whose call “sounds like he’s on a roller coaster.”

By the time the final round of bingo wrapped up, participants weren’t just playing a game — they were listening differently. They were hearing patterns, rhythms, personalities. They were hearing the forest the way naturalists do.

A night that left people listening

As the program ended, people lingered, comparing notes, replaying calls in their heads, and laughing about the ones they’d missed.

“I’ll never hear a grackle the same way again,” one participant said.

Another admitted, “I thought the Bald Eagle would sound… tougher.”

And several said they planned to take their new skills outside the next morning.

That’s exactly what Orndorf hopes for.

“The more repetition you hear, the more likely you are to remember it,” she said. “And once you start recognizing bird calls, it changes the way you experience the outdoors.”

Towpath’s tradition of hands-on learning

The Towpath Naturalist Society has long been known for programs that make nature accessible, but “Birdsong Bingo” might be one of its most joyful offerings. It’s educational without being intimidating, scientific without being dry, and silly without losing substance.

It’s also a reminder that nature isn’t just something to observe — it’s something to listen to.

And thanks to one lively naturalist with a speaker full of bird calls, a roomful of people in Lewistown are now hearing the world a little differently.

Next meeting

“Summer Nights with Firefly Lights,” featuring Jen Moore of Greenwood Furnace State Park will be the subject of the Towpath Naturalist Society meeting at 7 p.m. on Tuesday, May 12 at St. John’s Lutheran Church, 120 N. Main St., Lewistown. This is the final spring program; they resume in September. All are welcome. $10 annual dues are payable in November.