Intro

Index – Intro – Ch.1 – Ch.2 – Ch.3 – Ch.4 – Ch.5
Ch.6 – Ch.7 – Ch.8 – Ch.9 – Ch.10 – Ch.11 – Ch.12 – Ch.13

This book should really be called “Mr. Average watches birds”. He may not always know what he’s looking at, but hey, that’s what the camera is for. Take a snap and (if you’re lucky) it will be good enough for someone to disentangle it for you if you’re not able to make a proper ID yourself.

I suppose you could call me a loner or an independent spirit. Whatever your description, I hate crowds at the best of times and prefer to do my own thing. Benefit: you can absorb the look and sound of the wildlife around you. Drawback: you have to figure it out for yourself. Whenever you pick up a book where the author has set him or herself the task of compiling a list of a specified size or content (e.g. 200 UK birds in one year, or all the UK red-listed birds over the same period), you’ll find that the person in question is either an expert bird watcher or professional ornithologist, or has taken the advice and guidance of local expert to suss out hard-to-spot birds. Personally I prefer a more relaxed and serendipitous approach: I may visit an area in the knowledge that such and such a bird resides there, but if I don’t spot it, then that’s not the end of the world.

Clearly, being able to spot a lifer does matter to some degree, but let’s say that I won’t lose any sleep over the fact that I may have missed a target bird. For instance, I’m a member of the South Wales Birding Facebook group, and that gives you a feel of what’s around where and when. Still, it doesn’t overly worry me that I haven’t yet gone to see the Siberian chiffchaff at Parc Slip, or that I may have missed the great grey shrike in the same area. If I happen to pass by and the birds in question are there, that’s fine, but I definitely refuse to give in to the twitcher instinct that resides in all of us. Cattle egret near Porthcawl? That’s OK, but I’ve already seen them in Portugal, so seeing them closer to home is not the same unique experience anymore. I’d rather prefer the surprise when I saw great white egrets in the Somerset Levels, or the red kite at the Fishmeadow Lakes near Romsey – the delight of the surprise.

Anyhow, back to the drawback of going it alone. You have to put in some more graft to figure out what’s what, and without guidance chances are that you miss or misidentify birds where an expert could have put you right straight away. After all, that’s how my blog started: I got so frustrated that I had identified a reed bunting on the Isle of Sheppey, forgot all about it in the intervening months, and had to put in the graft again to repeat the exercise. I also became aware that my bird records from places such as the Galapagos, Botswana and Brazil might fade from memory over time, and make amends while I still had all the relevant details at hand. So in a way, I hope that my way may be slow but potentially, things learned the hard way might stick better.

As for cameras, I watch the scope brigade with a mixture of envy, admiration and disdain. Although I would dearly wish that some of my pictures were of a better quality, I hate to be lumbered with something that can’t fit in my pocket and can’t be retrieved at a moment’s notice. So for the time being, and until I undergo a Damascene conversion, I make the best of what I’ve got (see Chapter 4 for more detail on cameras).

Anyhow, I tell myself, the aim is not to go for the professional ornithology or twitcher angle, but rather go places and see what turns up. After all, what’s the point of scouring the UK for a black redstart if you can see them without any trouble in Spain? It adds spice to my holidays, and sometimes brings the challenge of figuring out how to manage a luxury-free week on an island like Skokholm or Bardsey Island. Believe me, once you’ve stayed on an island for several days, you feel almost short-changed by day trips.

As you may have noticed, this story is written from the point of view of a REAL bad birdwatcher. Simon Barnes may have written the book about bad birdwatchers, but he clearly isn’t one. This is written by someone who’s source of information is a Collins BTO Guide to British Birds and some assistance from the Bird Forum, but without any contacts in semi-professional birding circles. And believe me, coming to grips with what bird is what is nowhere as easy without having an expert at hand to cut the Gordian knot. See for instance the short-toed eagle / common buzzard debate resulting from slightly inadequate (although artistically satisfying) photographs of a bird of prey floating in the sunset.

Basically, what this means is that my bird list (to which I’ve unashamedly added captive birds of various descriptions) is rather paltry in comparison with people who have the ambition of reaching a UK count in excess of 200 in a calendar year. For comparison, Stephen Moss, in his book “Mrs. Moreau’s Warbler” states as his tick count for his garden, local patch, local town, UK and the world as 84, 97, 214, 374 and 2627. My equivalent figures stand at 22, 49, 73, 156 and 366. I’m sure that places me well in the bottom half of the bell curve for birdwatchers – and in a way I’m rather proud of being Mr. Average or even Mr. Below Average.

Index – Intro – Ch.1 – Ch.2 – Ch.3 – Ch.4 – Ch.5
Ch.6 – Ch.7 – Ch.8 – Ch.9 – Ch.10 – Ch.11 – Ch.12 – Ch.13