I’ve recently embarked on Operation: Regrow My Attention Span.

My protocol includes eschewing all Meta-owned social media for an undetermined length of time. Fare thee well, book of face and the other one where we once scrolled through pretty photos, but now only see the filtered faces of influencers hawking Amazon junk.

Exit social media, enter a more productive, healthier, kinder, less divisive online site: eBird, a place where bird lovers around the world report their sightings, jealously ogle other birders’ checklists and photos, and covet each other’s big gets, like bald eagles and kestrels.

Oh, wait, that’s me. Just kidding. I only feel happiness for those jerks who have unlimited free time and can drop everything and go on birding adventures at a moment’s notice, who have the most amazing cameras, scopes and binoculars to capture their beautiful photos to share (brag) to the rest of us sad sacks who only have our low-res camera phones, nearsighted eyes and a few hours on the weekends to seek out birds. But I’m not bitter — no siree, not me.

But that’s how I found myself reclined on the couch one recent weekend, perusing eBird for El Paso County’s hot birding spots and exclaiming out loud at pretty birds. Funny how life changes. A hot spot back in the day would have meant a bar or club, where I might have exclaimed over cuties. Now it means a bustling outdoor spot that draws cute avians.

My eye was on a prize: a bald eagle. I’ve seen a couple in the wild, but it had been some years. I needed an eagle fix. Even better, a golden eagle, which I’ve never seen. Or the aforementioned kestrel, a small, vibrant falcon I just want to pop in my pocket and scratch its little noggin.

I skimmed the checklists for Fountain Creek Regional Park, Big Johnson Reservoir & Bluestem Prairie Open Space, Clear Spring Ranch and Prospect Lake.

Indeed, some people had scored a few bald eagles here and there, along with a multitude of other waterfowl species, of which I am terrible at identifying, and maybe explains why I found them the least interesting birds. But my apologies to all the geese and duck species. I’ve been sleeping on you, and I aim to make good.

And that’s where eBird comes in handy. (I swear I’m not getting paid by eBird.) You can go through checklists, click on the birds people have seen in each spot and familiarize yourself with their likeness before you head out into the wild. It’s also nice to see other people’s photos of the birds in the actual habitat; those same birds might still be hanging out by the time you haul your lazy carcass off the couch cushions and out the door.

Prospect Lake came out the winner, mostly because I could also cross dog walk off my list at the same time as searching for bald eagles.

So does this make me a birder? Birders are more intense than birdwatchers. Birders are on the hunt. They go out with specific birds in mind. Birdwatchers aren’t quite as obsessive. We like to meander and stumble upon cool birds.

Alas, despite my prep work, an eagle sighting was not in the offing that day. However, my outing was still a raging success. Just as we finished our lap around the lake, I spotted a waterfowl that seemed different. I peered through my binoculars, and what to my wandering eye did appear but a male hooded merganser and his nearby female partner. The first I’ve ever seen. What a little work of art that guy was. And I only knew his name because I’d clicked on his name on an eBird checklist the day before. Bonus: When I got home and compared notes on eBird, I learned I’d also seen an American coot scooting around on the water.

A week later, eBird helped me score another new bird at Fountain Creek Regional Park — a northern shoveler. The name tracks. This little guy was paddling across the pond with his flat, shovel-like bill in the water the whole time.

So that’s three new species to add to my bird repertoire, which surely makes me three times smarter. All thanks to going Meta-free.