PARK FOREST, Ill. (AP) — As people everywhere prepared to hunker down for what could be an extended period, Sue Zelek couldn't wait to get outside.

She wasn't eager to get to the store to stock up on toilet paper or cleaning supplies. For her, life is looking up. Literally. She's always ready to get her eyes to the skies and treetops to search for birds.

"This is a good time to do that," she said on March 13. "When you're outside, for birders, you're keeping your distance from people. If you're with a group of people, most of the time, the birds aren't going to be there. So you leave that area to go somewhere to be more secluded. So it's an escape from the reality of life right now, to get outside and get fresh air, to go hiking which also is good for you."

Zelek, of Steger, is a master birder who teaches programs in the area on bird identification and a naturalist who helps get people into and understand nature. She was set to lead a "Woodcock Watch" at Governor's State University until nearly every event that involves gathered people was canceled.

So she'll head out on her own with her binoculars and camera to add to her yearly list of species sightings.

"It keeps me out of my computer seeing all of this stuff I don't want to think about," she said. "It's like, OK, I'll just go out and look for birds. I'll just get away."

But for Zelek, birding is no mere walk in the park. It's a skill she's honed over several decades to the point where she can pick out the tiny details — a color variation behind the eyes, the pitch of a mating call — that distinguishes birds from within even the same species.

Leading a group of beginner birdwatchers at a program in January at Thorn Creek Nature Center in Park Forest, a muffled call from a stand of evergreens was enough to alert her that a pileated woodpecker was nearby. A few quiet moments later, her suspicion was confirmed. The largest of the woodpeckers that frequent the area flew by, bigger than the red headed woodpecker and markedly larger than the downy woodpecker.

That's what makes birding especially rewarding in times of stress. Not only does it get her outside into nature and moving around, but it occupies her mind.

"It's a whole different high," she said. "It's peaceful, it's relaxing and it's challenging. You're using your brain to figure out what you're seeing, why you're seeing it, where you're seeing it. It's everything all at once. It's a rush.

"You get out there and it's a legal high, but you're not doing anything wrong. Especially when you get to see the cool stuff."

She told of sitting in her car on the side of the road — "as I often do," she said — after she spotted some sandhill cranes flying into a farm field.

"I kept thinking, you know, a whooping crane would be great," she said. "And as I sat there, I heard these birds flying from the field next to me, as I was looking up there were these whooping cranes. I almost broke my camera trying to get it from the floor next to me. But I grabbed it just in time."

She also grabbed her phone to alert her birding friends about the whooping cranes, which are rare in Illinois. One friend, who was at work, "told his work he had plumbing problems" so he could duck out to see the whooping cranes.

"The feeling you get from seeing something like that is great," she said. "It's hard to describe. If you were ever out there with birders and something like that would happen, you would see the feelings these people are getting. It's amazing."

Zelek said she often seeks out bird hot spots before she heads to work as a lab technician at a company that makes coatings for glass. Such was the case Thursday, when she stopped by Maple Lake in Willow Springs to look at loons. Then thousands of sandhill cranes flew overhead.

"It was absolutely awesome," she said. "They just kept coming over and over us. It's hard to concentrate on birds in the tree when you have all these loud, large dinosaurs flying overhead. So it was kind of fun.

"When I pulled out to head to work, which is difficult when I get focused on birds, I couldn't stop looking. There were all these Sandhills. The sky was turning dark. Crazy. I put down 2,000, but there had to be more like 5,000 or 6,000."

Part of being a birder, as opposed to being a bird watcher, is making lists, she said, estimating numbers and recording the number of species she's spotted. Whenever she can, she documents the sightings with photographs.

"Birdwatching is casual," she said. "A birder is more extreme, we go out and try to see birds everywhere. We make lists and compete with other birders for numbers."

Last year was a big year for Zelek. She spotted 251 different bird species that year in Will County. And there were 256 species of birds spotted by anyone in Will County that year.

"I was at 98% in the county," she said. "There were only a handful of birds I didn't see. I was shocked at myself. Of course there was a lot of work involved. And I got lucky too. Because I was out there. The more you're out there, the more you see."

Zelek used to work as a naturalist, but since 2000 or so has volunteered at Thorn Creek Nature Center and elsewhere to spread the gospel of birding.

And as we head further into the uncertain future of unprecedented times, perhaps that message is more important than ever.