There’s a long weekend of fireworks and barbecues approaching – but I’m sure some of our readers will take some time to watch the midsummer birds. Perhaps you’ll sit quietly and watch your hummingbird feeder – or get up early and stroll through the park looking for fledglings. Or maybe you’ve got an all-out expedition planned, and you’ll be bagging rarities on the other side of the horizon.
Like the Inuit and their fabled number of words for snow, the bird-watching tribe has invented a vocabulary that can handle subtle gradations of enthusiasm (or obsession). But the definitions are slippery. Do you think there’s a difference between a “bird watcher” and a “birder”? Has it ever been suggested that you’re a “twitcher,” a “stringer,” or a “lister”?
How would you describe yourself? Do you use the two terms interchangeably, or perhaps different words altogether – I’ve also heard “naturalist,” “bird lover,” “nature enthusiast,” “outdoorsman” (or “outdoorswoman”), and “environmentalist.”
Here at the Lab, where many of us have spent a fair amount of time studying birds, people seem reluctant to describe themselves as “true birders” unless they can keep up with a certain echelon of folks, the kind who can, say, spot a Yellow-billed Loon in a New Jersey subdivision pond at 45 m.p.h. But then again, I’d say anyone who gets up before 7 a.m. on the weekend to see what’s in the bushes qualifies.
But does that mean that “bird watcher” somehow applies to people who are less interested or dedicated? I don’t think so. Certainly plenty of people have spent decades feeding birds, going on group bird walks, or helping on Christmas Bird Counts. They have a ton of experience and sharp ID skills – are they birders or bird watchers? Is it a matter of where or how often or which birds they watch?
For my weekend, I’m bound for Santa Cruz, California – not to look for rarities but to revisit the common birds of my former home: Black Oystercatchers, Heermann’s Gulls, Acorn Woodpeckers – and, of course, the mighty Brown Pelican.
And what do I call myself? I lean toward “naturalist” because I get a kick out of things like the 3-inch red newts that are out on the Ithaca roads right now, the longhorned beetles clinging to the milkweed leaves, or the crazy iridescent nudibranchs I’m hoping to see in the tidepools this weekend.
But when I’m pressed, I say “birder.” It’s a holdover from 30 years ago, when my dad started getting me up at 4:30 a.m. to go look for Black-throated Gray Warblers and White-winged Crossbills in New Mexico. Every weekend. Now, I suppose, I’m more of an opportunistic bird watcher. But old habits die hard.
(Image: Bob Powell)
12 Comments
I’m interested in the birding vocabulary discussion, especially because I have an online shop with apparel and gifts for birders. I prefer to say ‘birding’ and ‘birder’ but I also have to think about what potential shoppers might search for, and the shoppers might not be birders themselves. According to Google Trends, ‘birding’ is searched much more than ‘birdwatching’ or ‘bird watching’.
The term birder is active while bird-watcher is passive. I use birder extensively but if I suspect the person is not going to understand the term, I like to use “wildlife/bird photographer”.
Of course, beyond being a birder, “bird conservationist” or just “conservationist” are my favorite terms to use on myself.
When all else fails, the term “birdfreak” is bound to stir up some discussion
“Twitching” is what your neck muscles do after too much warbler watching.
“Listing” is what happens to a rickety boat when all the birders aboard go to one side to view a bird.
I’ll go with birder, though bird photographer is probably more accurate for me because although I’ll note a few birds that I’ve only seen, they don’t really count for me until I post their picture.
When I read the title of this post, the first thing that came to mind was how in a birder’s vocabulary, “green” differs from everyone else’s concept of that color. That was brought home to me when I saw my first Black-throated Green Warbler. It wasn’t until seeing warblers in-hand at a banding that I fully appreciated the olive-green. By name, I never would’ve guessed that such a boldly colored yellow and black bird would be called a green anything…
I usually use “birder” and “birding.”
I like to use the term “backyard bird watcher” because that is pretty much what I do. I love to watch the birds who visit my urban-type back and front yards, and I love to photograph them with my point-and-shoot. But I also enjoy photographing the plants and flowers and “garden critters” in my yards. When I go birding with a group or on my own (beyond my backyard watching), I then consider myself a beginning birder. But if I need to be labeled I guess I would have to go with nature lover/photographer.
Roger Tory Peterson much preferred the term “birdwatcher.” When I was feeling like I needed to prove myself, I used “birder” for myself, and it certainly has more of a spirited, competitive air than “birdwatcher.” So I answer to either, but overall like the feeling of appreciation that seems to me more in the “birdwatcher” term, and since I’ve long had a policy of not posting my lists anywhere, feeling that for me birding is too personal to be competitive, in some ways I don’t really feel that I qualify as a birder.
But the nuances of both terms are pretty muddied and intertwined, so I don’t think it really matters. I just love birds.
I typically describe myself as a “birder” as it seems less passive than “birdwatcher.” Sometimes I’ll also describe myself as a “nature enthusiast” since birds aren’t my only interest when it comes to the outdoors.
I like both terms. And both “birder” and “bird watcher” are SO much better than “Bird Man!” which a few of my neighbors yell when they see me walk by. Makes me cringe every time.
The term birder does carry with it a connotation of a certain “seriousness” and advanced birding abilities that serves to exclude more casual birders (or bird watchers). That exclusion is usually self-imposed but real.
I guess you could say the converse as well, i.e., using the term “bird watcher” tends to self-exclude serious birders.
People that are serious about feeding the birds may not call themselves “birders” but they are as passionate as your most advanced birder about the birds.
The term bird watcher may be the most inclusive term:
“He drew a circle that shut me out–
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in!”
Edwin Markham
All of them are totally right.
Anna’s Hummingbird
A common bird of urban areas of the far West, the Anna’s Hummingbird makes itself conspicuous by its behavior as well as its choice of habitat. The male sings frequently from exposed perches, and makes elaborate dive displays at other hummingbirds and sometimes at people.
Description
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Medium-sized stocky hummingbird.
Tiny compared with other kinds of birds.
Back iridescent bronzy green, grayish below.
Male has rose red throat and forehead.
Size: 10 cm (4 in)
Wingspan: 12 cm (5 in)
Weight: 3-6 g (0.11-0.21 ounces)
Sex Differences
Male with red throat and forehead, female with white throat and green forehead. Female with white tips on tail feathers. Male slightly larger.
Sound
Song a buzzy, scratchy series of squeaking phrases. Also makes chip notes and a twitter.
»listen to songs of this species
topConservation Status
Range expanding and numbers increasing.
Other Names
Colibri d’Anna (French)
Colibrí coronirrojo (Spanish)
Cool Facts
In the first half of the 20th century, the Anna’s Hummingbird bred only in northern Baja California and southern California. The planting of exotic flowering trees provided nectar and nesting sites, and allowed the hummingbird to greatly expand its breeding range.
The dive display of the Anna’s Hummingbird lasts about 12 seconds, and the male may fly to a height of 40 m (131 feet) during the display. He starts by hovering two to four meters (6-13 feet) in front of the display object (hummingbird or person), and then climbs in a wavering fashion straight up. He plummets in a near-vertical dive from the top of the climb and ends with an explosive squeak within half a meter of the display object. He then makes a circular arc back to the point where he began. On sunny days the dives are oriented so that the sun is reflected from the iridescent throat and crown directly at the object of the dive.
On rare occasions, bees and wasps may become impaled on the bill of an Anna’s Hummingbird, causing the bird to starve to death.
from “All About Birds
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