The Evolution of a Birder
I've been thinking a lot lately about birders--specifically, the various kinds of birders we are, have been, and will become. When I think back across my life as a birder, I can see how own my skill level has progressed, but perhaps more interestingly how my mentality has changed as it relates to the bird identification process. What drove me in the early days isn't what drives me now, and I wonder what will drive me moving forward? What does it mean to be an "expert birder"? How can I get there? There are many talented birders out there, but there are certain qualities that I've seen shared among the birders I look up to--the ones that consistently blow my mind when I'm birding with them in the field.
We all start out birding as beginners. For whatever reason we're drawn to birds. The initial spark that grabs us can come from a variety of sources, but once we have it we're captivated, and our lives are never the same. But being captivated by birds and learning to identify them with skill are two different things; the former can happen in an instant, but the latter takes a remarkable amount of time. The great thing about being a beginning birder is that everything is new. There are amazing discoveries and new species to be had around every corner. The Sibley Guide is a wondrous thing; a book of possibilities. We thumb across the pages, dreaming of seeing our favorite birds, indeed learning what our favorite birds are! It's an amazing time to be a birder. The funny thing is, we often don't appreciate the newness of it all. Instead we're like impatient children, eager to hang out with the older kids, to get older ourselves, to become experts.
Arctic Loon, San Simeon, CA, 13 Jan 2012. A bird I dreamed about seeing as a young birder, but would I have recognized one back then?
Over the years we learn the ins and outs of basic birding. Some learn faster than others. We learn the common birds in our neighborhoods, and then we move onto bigger challenges. Perhaps it's fall warblers, shorebirds, or raptor identification. For the sickest ones among us, it could be gulls. We pursue our specific interests and learn more about how to look at birds, transcending into the realm of the intermediate-level birder (for lack of a better name). New questions perplex us. How old is that bird? What subspecies is it? What is a subspecies anyway? We learn how real-world birds differ from those we see depicted in field guides, and how lighting, molt, wear, weather, and other climactic conditions affect the way a bird looks on any given day.
Now don't take this the wrong way but...these "college years" of birding can be a dangerous time for many of us (not all though). We think we know a lot, but in reality we know a little, and often our egos get the best of us. We foolishly challenge conventional wisdom, having misplaced confidence in our abilities, finding one too many rarities or birds that fall outside their expected windows of occurrence. We suffer from single-observer sighting syndrome. Armed with our new found knowledge and budding identification skills, we too often shoot from the hip, pushing the limits of our skills, and testing the patience of our mentors. Unconstrained by reality (historic precedent) and freed from the gripping fear of making mistakes as beginners, we're sometimes a little too loose with our identifications. It's a delicate time for us, and some of us don't learn from our mistakes, and pay the price by loosing credibility among our peers. Others do learn though, and become excellent birders. The best avoid this phase altogether, being keenly aware of themselves, their skills, and their reputations from the beginning.
The next phase of our birding life is "middle age", a higher level of intermediate birder. Most of us forgo the capriciousness of youth for a more measured and thoughtful approach. Instead of shooting from the hip we become more methodical in our identification process. We transform our mentality from thinking we know everything to realizing we know nothing. We are humbled again, just like at the beginning, but this time the questions we ask are different. The possibilities are endless. Identification becomes just one of the things that fascinates us about birds. It is at this level where many of us remain for the rest of our lives, happily birding ever after. But it is here where the truly expert birders begin to diverge.
So what makes an "expert birder"? Well, lots of things! Truly expert birders combine the passion of the "college years" with the clear-headed approach of "middle age". They mix blazing hot field skills with an incredible knowledge of bird distribution and seasonality. They use probability of occurrence to help quickly limit their likely identification choices, and then use their field skills to quickly sort through the possibilities to make seemingly instantaneous identifications. They have an intimate knowledge of the common birds, and are prepared to recognize a rare bird as "different" the moment it occurs. Unsatisfied with the status quo, expert birders question conventional wisdom, but this time break new ground, pushing the boundaries of the identification process forward, doing so by asking questions, long hours in the field, and careful study.
Expert birders learn to look at birds differently--they look longer and more closely than most birders. They form an initial impression, but they then divorce themselves from it to look at it anew, always double-checking. Their mindset changes from being about making the call first, to being about getting it right in the end. Expert birders are often the ones that forgo an emotional response to a rarity in favor of a rational examination of the situation. Instead of saying 'got it', and quickly ticking off a rarity on their lists, they identify the bird for themselves, sometimes coming to a different (and often unpopular!) conclusion.
Perhaps most importantly though, the truly expert birders know when to say "I don't know". This is a difficult thing to do, as it goes against everything we've trained ourselves to accomplish over the years. We're driven to put a name on every bird, but many birds defy identification for various reasons. Whether Kaufman or Sibley, Crossley, O'Brien, or Howell, I've heard all them say "I don't know" when asked to identify birds under certain circumstances. Instead of simply giving an answer, they are more interested in providing the right answer. And sometimes the answer is unknowable. They know more than all of us about birds, yet they are smart enough to know when they don't know, and they are big enough to admit it.
These birders, and many others like them, are my mentors. They are the kind of birder I aspire to be.
So what does "expert birder" mean to you?