Jer Thorp

When I was growing up, my mom would spend early March on the lookout for robins. They were, she told us, heralds of spring. Spotting the first robin out on the lawn was the first sure sign that winter was over. If you live in North America, it's probable that you learned something similar about these ubiquitous thrushes, with their persimmon bellies. This time of year I'll often be asked a question by park-goers who spot me with binoculars around my neck:"Have the robins arri

Feathers colored by data from Wikipedia descriptions This is a story about dead birds in drawers, xkcd, natural language processing and feathers. It's about color, quixotic pursuits and art made from data. It starts in a parking lot. It's December, 2020, and I'm in Breezy Point, Queens, a neighbourhood that's long been known for retired cops and just this week is known for being the only zipcode in NYC that sent in zero applications for Zohran Mamdani's transition team. I'

A collectively authored visualization of the datasets that touch our lives during a day. Last month I flew to Pittsburgh to attend an...

In March, I waded across a shallow river and hiked a short distance along a jungle path to arrive at one of the most remarkable places...

My Binoculars to Binomials class is built around five modules, each with a different focus. These modules have at least one coding...

A set of printed bird valentines. Yesterday I spent a few hours making a silly, birdy, data-y set of valentines that anyone can share,...

I've been trying to collect good things over the last two weeks, gathering them carefully and holding them close. Stories about generous...

Every Bird is a series of artworks celebrating the astounding diversity of the world's birds and the dedication and tenacity of its birders