Seeing, Looking at, then Watching

Do you remember when you started bird-watching? Me neither.

I can remember quite clearly the first time I played golf (although I try hard to forget!), and when I took up fishing, hang-gliding and various other enthusiasms I went in for at different stages of my life. But birding? No. Just that it was a long time ago.

My theory is that it doesn't have a particular beginning, it just creeps up on you. You start by seeing birds, say in the garden, then you start actively looking at and for them, and this gradually evolves into watching. Finally, depending on your nature, you choose between the frantic obsession of the twitcher or the more sedate but equally obsessive life-long study of the birder.

In the early stages you may find yourself marvelling at the beauty of birds' appearance or song, or you may be astounded at the sheer spectacle of millions of starlings swirling above their winter roosting site. I supect, though, that most of us are infected with the bird-watching virus from a garden bird table. Even without instruction we quickly learn to distinguish between many of the common species, although we may not know their names. Being insatiably curious animals we are driven to find out their names, probably from a field guide, and identification is the first step to wider knowledge.

After the field guide comes a pair of binoculars, and this basic tool kit, with the addition of a note-book to record your sightings, is all that is needed to set you up for a life-time of bird-watching (you will, of course, convince yourself that you actually need a great deal more).

Our hobby is basically one of quiet enjoyment, taken at your own pace, with just occasional moments of high excitement when you discover a rarity, or witness unusual behaviour, so is it any wonder that the interest stays with us for life?

Or that we cannot quite remember when it all began?

Grampy John