I hope you did not expect any list of favorites from me – liking things is not really my core competence. So, here is my list of the 10 things I hate most about birding.
Owling
Julius Caesar apparently said, “I love treason but hate the traitor”. For me, it is “I love owls but hate owling”. See, I am a morning person – getting up an hour before sunrise is no problem for me, even if sunrise happens to be at 4 am. But to go out birding after dinner – a horror. This is the time I want to be near a computer, a beer, a cat, and a bed – not out in the field listening to some bird guide’s rambles about how “this owl is usually very stable here” while I want to tell him to shut up and let me go to bed, ungrateful prick that I am. Still, they trick me into going out owling almost every time, just for the minute chance of seeing one of these flying cats.
Being in places without beer
Fortunately, this happens fairly rarely, and not necessarily in places I go to for birding (the longest without beer in my living memory was for about 16 days in Afghanistan in 2023, and boy, this was a long stretch). Still, it just happened to me in some village on Halmahera where everybody is Muslim and thus does not believe in the magic healing powers of beer. Needless to say, I got cranky and blamed the bird guide even though it was entirely my fault not to stock up at another village where a reliable (and presumably in the eyes of the neighbors, unscrupulous) Chinese sold the local Bintang beer.
Fellow birders showing me their bird photos while I am birding
I should probably prepare a sign in a dozen languages (most importantly Chinese) stating the following: “The reason why I am out in the field now with my camera is that I am trying to take photos of birds. It is not that I am looking for an opportunity to be shown bird photos taken by other people. If I wanted to look at bird photos, I would do so from the comfort of my home, with a cat on one side and a beer on the other – plus, the photos would likely be better too. Thank you for your understanding”.
Being told that “it is not the best season”
There is something mystical about the best season for seeing my target birds – specifically, whenever I am at a given location, it is not the best season to see that bird. Somehow this sounds a bit like Schrödinger’s Cat, though I have to admit that I do not fully understand the analogy myself. In any case, in such situations I sometimes wish somebody had the courage to tell me something like “It is exactly the right season to see this bird – but you are just so damned unlucky”.
Smokers
While the knowledge that some practices are unhealthy – such as smoking or not using seat belts – has been spread widely in some countries, it will still take several decades to reach many of the best birding locations in places such as Southeast Asia, despite us purportedly living in an age where knowledge is the new black and it supposedly spreads at the speed of light. Which in China can mean I still have to share a bird blind meant for 10 people with 9 heavy smokers. Many of the birds visiting these blinds subsequently die of lung cancer, of course.
Leaf Warblers and Subspecies
If while birding I am ever going to meet an extremely attractive, rich, single, intelligent, and funny woman who displays a strong interest both in leaf warblers and in different yet similar-looking subspecies of average-looking birds, I might pretend I am interested too. Otherwise, I can’t be bothered.
Being told to be patient while waiting for a bird
If there is one thing I have never been good at and never will be, it is to be patient. This has always made the standard job interview question “What is your greatest weakness” a bit awkward for me, as admitting to impatience is such a boring and predictable answer that presumably nobody uses it anymore unless they apply for a job for which being boring and predictable is a strong asset (I hear accountants are advised to give exactly this answer in job interviews). So, dear bird guide: Don’t tell me to be patient. Tell the bird to hurry up.
Birders who have already seen your target bird – but have seen it better
You finally see your target. You are happy and satisfied, and might even mention your sighting to another birder. Immediately, he (yes, it is usually a he – it is a testosterone thing) points out that he has not only seen the bird – he has seen it three times already, once in an unusual location, once in an unusual season, and once in an unusual flock of birds. As killing this guy is usually not an option (there are witnesses), you can only counter by telling him that he might not have seen this species at all, as it is all too easily confused with another, much more common species (see my award-winning essay “How Wars Start” for more details).
Riding as a passenger on a motorcycle
In certain countries (yes, I am looking at you, Indonesia), motorcycle taxis are still regarded as a non-suicidal form of transportation. I tend to disagree with this over-optimistic assumption – sitting behind a young local male and holding on to his hips for life has limited attraction for me as a heterosexual male. Unfortunately, sometimes the birds seem to assemble at spots that can only be reached this way. Birds, you really should be more considerate.
Encountering large birding tour groups
Admittedly, my love of humankind – particularly its larger agglomerations – is limited. So, it comes as a shock to me when birding on a supposedly remote Indonesian island, suddenly 4 cars stop and about 12 birders who can only very charitably be described as middle-aged get out. And then listen to a young, overconfident, and presumably Australian tour guide very loudly pointing out the few birds in the area that still remain after this assault.
I first wanted to add “birders” to the list as well, but maybe that is a bit too negative even for me …
Of course, birding also has its positive aspects – such as not leaving much time for becoming a heroin addict. But I think it is better to cover these in a separate list. Expect a publication in early 2031.
I was once told there was too much habitat – a phrase I still use today whenever I dip on a bird (that happens a lot). Another thing to hate about birding: the guy who keeps his observation of a rare bird to himself, the person who doesn’t greet, the loud person in the hide, photographers talking about their “kit” while you want to see birds, know-it-alls, jokers, et cetera. You wonder why we ever go out, even in the morning…
Right. I think I need to write a sequel to this post soon. Also, forgot to mention annoying children.
I am surprised “having to pee real bad while watching shorebirds through a scope in an open area full of people” didn’t make the list. 😀
I think I could have added “Watching shorebirds through a scope in an area full of people” to the list of things I hate – which is why I did not have to add your slightly more specific point …
I’ll add two of my favorite pet peeves: 1) Someone who seeks you out to take them to your favorite site, and then won’t stop making very, very small talk in a very loud voice the whole day. 2) Birders who insist that every common bird is actually something extraordinary. They hear hoofbeats, and instead of thinking horses, or even zebras, they think unicorns.
I hate being told I missed a lifer by 15 minutes. And, it’s always 15 minutes! I hate non-birders asking me for an ID and then asking if it really is that bird. I hate being asked what I am looking at, when I’m in the middle of counting birds at a raptor watch.
While the knowledge that some practices are unhealthy – such daily consumption of alcohol – has been spread widely in some countries, it will still take several decades to reach many of the best birders.
Sorry, couldn’t resist.
Greetings from a fellow beer drinker.
Good point, and very much appreciated! Anyone who makes fun of everybody else (like me) deserves to be made fun of 🙂
Photographers with their whirring and clicking DSLRs , fake setups, usually found in packs,