A Conversation for Birdwatching

As mad as it sounds

Post 1


One good way of being introduced to birdwatching is to be dragged around merciless, empty landscapes as a protesting child by enthusiastic parents. Of course, then I got my own binoculars and learned that it helps if you can see the merciless, empty landscapes for yourself. You may frequently see nothing, and you will suffer for your hobby. Not only can you expect to tramp around a bleak, inhospitable landscape seeing absolutely nothing, but everyone you meet will brand you as crazy for even wanting to. But then they've never seen a lammergeier soaring over the mountains, a nutcracker three feet away, or know a skua as anything other than a barbecue accessory. These moments are the reason for the hours standing around developing frostbite in the fingers. The truth is, if you want to see the birds, you're probably going to have to stalk them. Incidentally, it helps to do this with older birders who can instantly identify the fleeting glimpse of brown you're otherwise going to write off as another sparrow.

As mad as it sounds 2

Post 2


Were all birdwatchers born into the obsession? I've been wondering this as dispite my best efforts I have never yet converted anyone. Actually I wonder if there is any other way to get a 22yr old to get up and go birding after an all night clubbing session other than conditioning from a young age. Is it possible that it is gentic affliction? I often wonder why I find myself sitting in a damp, cold hides when in all other aspects I appear a perfectly normal human. I can handle it though, just one Spoonbill a month, you know for recreational purposes I can go back to Sparrows anytime I want, honest, I know I can?

As mad as it sounds 3

Post 3


Actually I think it's a combination of conditioning and genetics, given I got sucked in to the joys of staring at Reed Buntings through a scope even though its windy and freezing cold, and my sister somehow escaped. Practically had to be a first for Europe before she thought it was worth picking her bins up. But hey, maybe there'll be another Bee-eater in Manchester before long. Or anything, really.

As mad as it sounds 2

Post 4


Plus I twitched a Grey Pharalope yesterday. That'll keep me happy for a while, right?

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