Dear Burt and Tweeters,

That was a thinking man's post to Tweeters, Burt,
and a jolly fun one, too--a good example of why I try
to temper the urge to delete incoming messages
wholesale.

I love the British twitchers. It is a hoot to bird
with them, in my experience. Britons and Americans
speak the same language, and yet do so distinctly;
they do many other things distinctly as well. Thus,
when I bird with Britons, it seems as if I am birding
with beings from some alternate universe. As a bonus,
they usually appreciate a good pint and a coarse joke.
I love them! In fairness, though, I have not yet
birded with any of the twits among the twitchers.

A few years ago, I heard one of our esteemed
Tweeters utter a word that I have come to cherish, at
least clandestinely. He described a certain other
birder as "Audubonish." I knew what he meant,
instantly: someone who trundles along on field trips
with the local chapter, feeds birds at home, inks
lifers into a tattered Peterson guide, and always
retains the beginner's admiration for pretty robins
and cute chickadees. The "Audubonish" birder may stay
at a relatively low level of identification skill,
while retaining a relatively high level of enjoyment.
Audubonish birders quit when the mosquitoes get
annoying, and they don't feel the least twinge of
regret when they go home after only three hours of
birding. I envy their sanity and their epicureanism.

Pardon the Star Wars reference, but sometimes when
I consider what a twitcher I have become, I wonder
whether I have turned to the Dark Side of the Birding
Force. I love birding, I bird all the time, and cannot
imagine ever quitting. Still, it was a different kind
of fun when I was more...Audubonish!




Yours truly,

Gary Bletsch

near Lyman (Skagit County), Washington

garybletsch at yahoo.com




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