Forty Years a Twitcher

We all twitch to a certain extent, it is merely travelling to see a new bird, but the term in birding circles, as opposed to the media, still implies a certain effort, beyond normal birding. Many people twitch occasionally, there is a great range from obsessive, going for everything twitching to local county twitching, or occasional when it's a bird you particularly want to see. In my case it's now the last category, but in the last part of the 20th century Ann and I were pretty much full-on twitchers.

However, as in everything, twitching has changed. We used to get derogatory comments about "other people's birds" and people going to see birds they'd never heard of, now it's about carbon footprints. But sadly, the one thing that has changed is-it's not so much fun. At one time, everybody knew everybody (or knew of them), and complete strangers would jump in each others cars at the drop of a hat to go and see a rarity. Most of the birders I know now I first met as a twitcher, and we all had a love of birding in common. This camaraderie was great, and still exists today. I travel to Shetland most autumns, and have several friends who have moved there, some of whom I went twitching with in the old days. My first ever twitch to Shetland (in 1986) resulted in my meeting two birders who were in the "top ten" listers, one of whom I travelled with a year or so later to see the last Slender-billed Curlews in Morocco.

But most of my memories now are of those last two decades of the last century, I've done plenty of twitching since, but a lot of the fun has gone. I think my most memorable twitch was for a bird that hasn't turned up since in Britain, and probably never will. A Pallas' Sandgrouse had been at Hillwell for several days, but my job meant I couldn't go by the traditional ferry method. I never took to ringing in sick (much), being self-employed it cost money and a reputation for unreliability I didn't need. However, I got a phone call one evening from Dave Taylor, who lived in Chester, saying that they'd got a seat on a "charter" and someone had dropped out, and I was the only person he knew who was mad enough to go. I never did any twitching with Dave, but we often met each other at rarities. My problem was I would have to find cover for my booking the following day. I phoned someone who I knew wasn't very popular, reasoning that he was the most likely to be free, and at ten that evening rang Dave back to say I was coming. 

In those days many rules and regulations regarding flights were ignored, but safety was important, so I was asked to pick up a lifejacket from a hotel near the Humber Bridge, and take it and myself to a deserted airstrip in Yorkshire. Luckily then we used OS maps, I'd never have found it with a satnav, probably not even Google maps. A Cessna flew in about five in the morning, and four birders were on their way! The flight was uneventful, although a couple of things remain in my memory. Dave's birding partner was Mike Pattison, and he had won the Motoring News Rally Championship in 1976, with Dave navigating. I had been rallying at that time, albeit at a lower level, but it was a co-incidence worth noting. Mike also held a private pilots licence, so during the course of our flight the pilot let him have a go, whilst we circled Fair Isle to have a look at the island from the air. Incidentally, rally experience is very useful when it comes to twitching, especially driving at night.

 I don't remember how we got around, except that it was in a car. I imagine Dave had hired it, but it may have been a local contact. In fact, I don't remember much at all of the next few hours, because the bird wasn't there! So I spent much of my time looking, obviously, and trying to decide how I was going to get something out of the twitch to prevent post-dip depression. The journey back was not going to be fun. Eventually our pilot appeared to say there was a weather front coming in, and he had to leave in about an hour. By this time no-one was talking much, all adrenaline had long-since been used up, and the early signs of the weather front were upon us, in the form of a fine drizzle. Again, I remember very little of the next half an hour, except that another birder arrived to say the bird had been found, and we were driving behind another car to the site! I have vague impressions of our pilot trying to stop us, saying we had to leave, but at that point it wasn't going to happen.

We arrived, a somewhat damp Pallas' Sandgrouse was in the grass about fifty yards away, I got a few poor photos, and after about half an hour we were (forcibly?) driven back to the airport. But will there ever be another, it is unlikely given that populations are falling. I've seen several since in Kazakhstan, and am going to Mongolia next week where I will meet up with them again, but we all thoroughly enjoyed the experience, there is nothing better than seeing a bird when all seems lost. It's all much better organised now, but we know all the time whether the bird is there or not, and that element of chance has largely gone. In a future blog I might tell the story of how I shared a bed with another well-known photographer, maybe not so much fun, but I ticked Needle-tailed Swift and Common Rosefinch on the same trip!  The photos below have little clues as to the special nature of each twitch, I've got some more stories to come.