Birders often willing to share the wealth

Birders often willing to share the wealth
John C. Lorson

This close encounter with a Virginia rail (a first for me) came as a result of striking up a conversation with a young Amish man and fellow birder, Duane H., as I traveled the Holmes County Trail on my ride home from work one evening a few weeks ago. Birders are often very willing to share their sightings and knowledge with others, and sharing is a win-win proposition when it comes to this pursuit.

                        

You’ll see them out on the trail on bikes, scooters, buggies and boots. Sometimes they’ve got cameras slung from their necks, other times a pair of binoculars. Every once in a while you’ll see a tripod and spotting scope worth a month’s rent strapped to a luggage rack on the back of a bicycle. Occasionally you’ll find them grouped together, surrounding such a scope waiting for their own shot at the prize.

And what is the prize they seek? The mere sighting of a bird.

“Birding” is quite likely the most pure, gentle and nonconsumptive way in which man can interact with nature. Birders come in every size and shape, from every background and walk of life, every region and socio-economic demographic imaginable. There is no “typical” birder — beyond a common obsession to spot, watch and identify things of the feathered world.

Most birders (and I’m speaking from my own experience here) come into the game lightly. Maybe they see a flash of color along the road one day and their eyes are drawn to something they’ve never seen before. Curiosity is programmed into the very nature of humankind. If we see something unusual, we are drawn to identify, classify and name that “thing.” By the time a person’s curiosity leads them into the weeds to chase the identity of a tiny winged creature, they’re already hooked.

My first exposure to birding came at the heels of my grandma Lorson, who would play her old 78 rpm vinyl recordings of birdsongs for me when I was still too young to know which end of the binoculars to look through. (I still have Grandma’s antique binoculars, by the way.)

But listening to birdsongs and watching cardinals and nuthatches come and go from the feeder only carried me so far as a young boy. My real breakthrough to birding came in the duck marsh, where watching, listening and identifying what crossed the sky in front of me took on a whole new level of importance.

While some may recoil at the term “hunter conservationist,” it’s impossible to deny some of the greatest contributors to the conservation efforts of the past 150 years were those who counted hunting and fishing among the many benefits of a thriving natural environment.

Much of the land set aside for wildlife in our state has been acquired with the license fees and excise taxes on hunting and fishing equipment. Additionally conservation organizations like Ducks Unlimited, Pheasants Forever and the Wild Turkey Federation work tirelessly to create habitat that benefits a multitude of both game and nongame species.

This land is there for all to enjoy together, no matter whether your pursuit brings food to the table, a photograph to your wall or a smile to your heart. My point here is we’re all in this together, so it always pays to make an effort to share.

Birders tend to be a fantastic group when it comes to a willingness to share. Strike up a conversation with a birder and you’ll quickly learn what I mean. Those folks I see out along the trail? I frequently approach slowly to avoid scaring off what it is they’re focused upon. If I get the feeling they’re not at a critical juncture in their pursuit, I’ll ask what they’re after.

I’ve almost invariably been greeted with a willingness to share. Birding differs a bit from hunting in that everyone can bag the very same critter, and everybody comes away a winner — even the bird!

Of course not every birder in every situation is bent on striking up a conversation with passersby, and if someone is obviously trying to be stealthy or aloof, it’s best to pass on by quietly. Trust me. It’s probably not about you; it’s more likely about the bird they are pursuing. Some birds, and at least a handful of birders, simply abhor a crowd.

One of my favorite things to do in my travels along the trail is let those traveling in the opposite direction know if they’re about to roll up on something noteworthy. I especially love delivering a “hot tip” to parents with kids. You never know if you’re about to inspire a whole new generation of birders!

Write with comments or questions about the natural world to The Rail Trail Naturalist, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email jlorson@alonovus.com.


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