Nature-Spotting in Your Neighborhood - NYTimes.com Anyone can explore the living world just as Alexander von Humboldt and Charles Darwin did, even homebodies willing to venture no farther than the terrain around their doorstep. The modern natural historian can capture with camera rather than rifle. Binoculars are handy, but not required. Jars are good for putting bugs into, and heavy books for pressing plants, and a person can never have too many field guides. The one must is a journal, in which explorers note each thing found, when and where. It can be motivating to maintain a running species tally. GARDEN, PARKING STRIP, SIDEWALK CRACKS Plants - from your prize roses to the dandelions in the sidewalk - are excellent places to start, since they won't run away when you photograph them. Life abounds on, in and under all plant parts, from branches to bark to seeds, leaves and galls. Take a look. Your reward may be caterpillars, beetles, lanky spiders, snails, lichens, tiny plants, birds" nests and more. Climb into trees for a different perspective and a different set of species - an owl that prefers a lofty perch, a raccoon asleep in the crook of a branch. Take a moment to ponder all the microscopic life - covering every inch of the world, each blade of grass, each opossum's hair - that eludes us completely. Even the macroscopic living world cannot be taken in all at once. So grab a glass of iced tea (noting which species are in your tea, of course). Listen for the rustling of leaf-kicking sparrows or a careless chipmunk. Sniff the wind for floral scents, for carrion. Follow your instincts. The longer you browse the world with your senses, the longer your list will grow. Sit still long enough and life comes to you. To join the party at its fullest and most raucous, come out at dusk - just at that moment when crickets begin to sing and fireflies to flash, and bats emerge clicking and flapping in the sky - or at sunrise, when the dawn chorus of birds quiets the last katydid. IN THE HOUSE Survey your clothing. Shirts built from cotton plants or flax? Woolen sweater made from a sheep? Open the refrigerator and begin to count the biodiversity fest that is a jar of mayonnaise: eggs (the chicken), oil (the soy plant), lemon juice (the lemon tree), sugar (cane or beet) and so on. Identify your furniture to species, your rugs, floors, toiletries. Tally pets, dogs, cats, fleas, plants and other family members. Take a nighttime walk to see if you can spot what lurks outside your windows in the dark. A vole? Perhaps a coyote? In the morning, check the porch light to see what delicate moth was drawn in and is now too cold to fly away. ADDING IT UP As all natural historians must discover, the thrill is in the capture, but the real slog - along with the deepest satisfaction - comes with identification. Once you have a species" Latin name, you have a golden key you can use to find out as much as is known about it. But how to determine the name? First, learn to use a field guide; libraries and bookstores have dozens, covering birds, plants, insects, mushrooms and so on. Regional guides are particularly useful, as they narrow the choices; so are the emerging field guide apps for smartphones. Enlist the resources of the Web, which offers recorded bird songs, keys for identifying trees, photographs of fungal species and much else. But know also that information is not readily available to identify all species with ease. So when you get stuck, mingle with experts whose knowledge extends beyond the books. Show your photographs or specimens to groups of insect enthusiasts, bird watchers, native plant experts and lichen lovers. E-mail your photos and descriptions to scientists at natural history museums, universities and your local cooperative extension offices. Some things will go nameless. In the end, does it matter? Set up a chair inside the house, a comfortable one with views around the room and out the window. Relax, make notes and wonder.