It's gotten me into the philosophy of twitching again, which is never a good idea - especially when coupled with a keyboard and the ability to wibble at the world. Or at least, that elite section that reads this here blog [well done] ;)
So, wibble away;
What's the worst part of twitching? Dipping, obviously. It sucks harder than a Dyson. [Other vacuum cleaners are available]. "Mobile and elusive" strikes fear into every twitcher's heart - though not as much as "It was here 5 minutes ago...." The journey out is invariably a prolonged torture; every hindrance hurts, physically, every second you lose unnecessarily could be the difference between a tick and a dip - you've seen it happen from both sides - and the closer you get the worse it feels. "Inconclusive views" - you've seen something, probably it, maybe certainly it, but not well enough to ID yourself*, not enough to tick it. Ouch. "Ringed and released", "Sprawk..." "Just flew off thattaway" Ok you get the idea. For me [and, who knows, maybe some others out there] there is another - "Enough to ID, but not enough to enjoy". The Little Bugger is very much in this category - it gave me just enough to clinch the ID but not a second more. Slightly better but still too similar was the Citrine Wagtail at Marazion last year - and that after 3 dips too! Contrast with the Brown Shrike - which was an utter superstar - and the Collared Fly on Fraggle Rock, who could have really given its admirers a hard time if it had moved over a bit, but instead showed again and again, very close, rain and shine.
I know twitching isn't the same as birding - indeed all listing isn't. Birding is about watching birds for the love of it, and indeed them. Listing is about exercising those hunting instincts we've inherited from hundreds of millions of years of ancestors, and there's nothing wrong with it at all. Quite the opposite, I believe it to be a very healthy activity; you can't ignore what's written in your DNA [and mitochondrial DNA and RNA and prions], and at least this way gets you out in the fresh air. Plus birds are involved.
There in that field, while I saw the bird and can put a Life Tick beside it's name, what I really enjoyed was the sudden flood of Spoonbills - from one to two to three, then two more and another one and yet another, almost as fast as I type this.. And what I loved, really grinningly loved, was that Barn Owl. Its grace and utter quiet determination - the Crow knocked it out of the air, but it just picked itself up and kept going. A ghost in the sunshine.
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