Originally, I had planned to fight middle age all the way.

I tried to do all the things that I thought would keep me young. I kept up with the music. I mean, not all of it, but I know my way around Bad Bunny, Olivia Rodrigo and Rosé.

I obviously don’t try to dress like I’m 20 anymore, but let’s be honest: I’m old enough to have my vintage clothes be cool again.

I know where and when and how to interject a “6-7” into conversation. (That’s a lie. No one knows what it means, or how to use it, but the fact that I know that and still use it means I’m using it correctly.)

The fact that I’ve graduated from “mom” to “bruh” practically means I’m aging backwards, right?

WRONG. So very wrong. It all started innocently enough.

I’ve been spending a lot of time in the backyard. “The Dirty Dozen,” as the 12 newly hatched ducks are known, are transitioning from their indoor quarters to their new outside habitat. That means that every day, they spend a few more hours outside, playing in their bigger pool, and generally adapting to sunshine and temperature changes.

Since the episode with the fox, I’ve been nervous about leaving any of the ducks unattended outside for very long, especially our little ones.

I was able to set up a makeshift office space on the porch, where I could keep on eye on them. I also had a bird’s-eye view to the backyard, which includes G’s pollinator garden, which is thriving, and to which he has added a new water feature. It’s been doing a great job of attracting birds.

Eventually, I became curious as to what kinds of birds were all around me. I downloaded Merlin, a free app that will listen to the birds around you and identify them. And, I officially became a bird watcher.

Amazingly enough, it is smart enough to filter out the domesticated birds, like the guinea fowl and the chickens.

Occasionally, though, the ducks will hit a pitch that mistakes for a mallard or wood duck, but other than that it seems to be working quite well.

I knew the robins, the jays and the cardinals, but I was surprised to hear several other birds that rarely make an appearance. G and I have both spotted what we think is a scarlet tanager on more than one occasion, and the app confirms that it’s making noises, even if we can’t see it. I love that it can differentiate between the types of woodpeckers, and having seen them, I know that it’s accurate.

I’ve become a bird watching fool, or more accurately, a bird-listening fool. I’ve gotten up early when they seem especially cheerful just to see what different types might be active in the morning compared to my usual afternoon listening sessions.

I’ve also checked out the different voices that chime in later in the evening, primarily the whip-poor-will.

G has had his fun, too. He makes a convincing enough crow call and can imitate mourning doves well enough that the app thinks he is them. It does not, however, like his wild turkey calls, or when he simply says, “I’m a big, flappy bird.” Six-seven, bruh.

Because the bird obsession wasn’t enough, I also started paying more attention to pruning my porch plants, to help keep their blooms going all summer.

When I pared back the first set of plants, I couldn’t bring myself to toss the scraps in the compost pile. Instead, I got a jar full of water and stuck the clippings in and tried to propagate them. It took a few days, but amazingly enough, tiny threads of roots started to appear. Overnight it seems that I have doubled my porch plants.

So, now, several times a day, you’ll find me on the porch with my bird identification app open, pruning and potting my plants. I don’t understand how something can make me feel positively ancient and invigorated at the same time, but it does.

I asked Google “why bird watching becomes more interesting as we get older,” and the answer started with “senior citizens enjoy bird watching because …” Thanks a lot, Google. (Insert eye-roll emoji here because I’m young enough to do that.)

I’m just going to think of myself as a trendsetter for the younger people, and bird identification happens to help with “gentle physical activity” and “preventing cognitive decline,” well, I guess that’s just a bonus!

Liz Pinkey’s column appears on Saturdays in the Times News