The Birder's Paradox

Something that’s always been difficult for me has been finding the line between listing and watching, between enjoying a rare bird and appreciating what I see every day. It’s something you might call the Birder's Paradox - how can I truly enjoy a rare bird if I forget to enjoy those that are more common?

I started to think about what birds symbolise 'home' to me. What birds do I see every day and often forget to give a second glance. 

Back home in Leicestershire, this might be the birds on the garden feeder - the Goldfinches, for example - along with House Sparrows and Blackbirds.

In my uni house in Bath, larger birds are the main cast - Herring, Lesser-black Backed and Black-headed Gulls are everywhere. Cormorants are common and there's always a Pied Wagtail on the road outside.

It struck me how different these were. A Goldfinch in the single tree that I can see from my Bath apartment would be a breath of fresh air, and I find myself celebrating a garden Pied Wagtail back home. But when was the last time I celebrated either one in the other place?

My uni patch in Bath doesn't feel all that exciting bird-wise, and often I find myself being jealous of the Velvet Scoters at Edinburgh Uni or the Pomarine Skuas at Falmouth Uni. Yet, when I list out my top wildlife experiences here:

    1. Hundred-strong Pied Wagtail roost every winter in a tree full of Christmas lights (see this post)

    2. The chance to see a Kingfisher or even an Otter from my living room window

    3. Listening to Tawny Owls in Alexandra Park, whilst enjoying an aerial view of a spectacular UK city

    4. Breeding Peregrines on St John's Church (see Bath Peregrines on Twitter or the webcam)

    5. Huge winter gatherings of Corn Buntings just outside of the city boundary

It doesn't seem all that bleak. In fact, I challenge anyone reading this post to do the same. You'll be surprised how easy it can be to make your local area seem like a mini wildlife hotspot.

Back home, I did the same:

    1. Bullfinches regularly visiting the garden feeder - they will visit even when you are outside with them

    2. Singing male Yellowhammers just a few hundred metres from the front door

    3. My street has hosted Waxwings in 4 winters so far!

    4. Most winters, my garden has Brambling, Siskin, Reed Bunting and Lesser Redpoll

    5. Raven's breeding in the town's castle

Again, that's not a bad list! Just writing these gave me a new appreciation for my situation in both locations.

My point? Well, most of the time you might not think that your little part of the country is all that special, and you might be right, but I'm willing to bet that it is quite unique. Just look how different my two lists are. And if you moved away from it tomorrow, I'm quite sure there are some aspects of the local nature scene that you'd miss. 

So think about the things that you'd show someone if they were moving to the area for the first time, and try to see them again today with a 'beginner's mind'.

I suppose the key is that you can make anywhere look good on paper, and 'the grass is always greener' trap is so easy to fall into, especially now when we're all stuck in one place.

Seeing rarities and listing (whether that's life, patch or year) will probably always be one of the main things that excites me in birding - there's no harm in that - and I don't want to change that. It's just that if the only purpose in birding is adding to a list then there are a lot of disappointing days with that remit. 

If lockdown has highlighted anything, it's that this isn't enough - we can never forget that fundamental love for the birds themselves. It is that which made us fall in love with birding in the first place, and it's that which will keep us going in times like this, when rarities have largely been taken away from us. Listing is great - it's what drives me out looking for that newest patch tick each morning - but it's best accompanied with the deep love of the natural world, which we all have, but which we often forget to nurture.

Local birding and twitching/listing are often seen as two very contrasting things. And they are, in principle. But that doesn't mean you can't enjoy both! They are very different feelings after all - that sharp excitement of a new tick is euphoric, it's the thing that gives birding its thrill, but that high won't last all that long and it's the ever-present underlying love for the birds that you see on a daily basis that will sustain your passion throughout those rarity-droughts in early July or an autumn spent ogling the East Coast.

The sad fact is that someone who sees a fleeting view of a white Bullfinch rump on their patch only once a year might celebrate that Bullfinch far more than I ever do my Bullfinches. And isn't there a problem in that? My Bullfinches sit just inches from me on my window feeder, my Bullfinches come to the garden even when it is otherwise devoid of life and every year without fail my Bullfinches succeed in producing juvenile Bullfinches. 

I'm going to make it my mission over the next few months to enjoy the birds that make my local area what it is. The birds that symbolise 'home' to me. And while I will certainly be celebrating a tick after a terrible view of a flyover Hawfinch (there's definitely no problem with that!), I will endeavour to celebrate those Bullfinches just as much. In my last post, I looked at lots of ways to reframe local birding experiences that will hopefully boost your mood and mindfulness.

Enjoying local birding doesn't have to mean forgetting your love of listing and the things that give you the thrill of birding. It might just mean reviving that appreciation of the little things that you've taken for granted: the things that would make a visiting birder say 'wow'; the things you've forgotten to enjoy a long time ago.