The Reluctant Evolution of a Birder

Article by: Kevin Raub, February 2008

First of all, let it be known that I do not think it's remotely cool to be a birder. Nor do I think I'm old enough to be one. I'm in my mid-30s - I thought this was a time for marriages and mortgages, not macaws and mockingbirds. And yet, I feel myself being drawn towards the feathered ones.

I'm in my mid-30s - I thought this was a time for marriages and mortgages, not macaws and mockingbirds.

The first symptoms began a few years ago in the beautiful backwaters of Kerala, India, with the country's beloved kingfisher. During a lovely cruise, I began to notice the kingfishers' distinct beaks and multi-hued feathers. When my guide announced there were several different species of kingfishers in the area, I felt a twinge. I wanted to see them all.

Then, last year, while on a tiger safari in Bandhavgarh National Park in central India, the twinge became more insistent. Although I was meant to be scouting the horizon for tigers, it was the birds who provided the most interesting diversion. There were Plum-headed Parakeets, Black-hooded Orioles and Tickles Blue Flycatchers. I'm ashamed to say I actually found myself looking them up in a field guide. What the hell was going on here? And then we saw the Indian Roller, a gorgeous bird whose vibrant turquoise wings look Photoshopped. I nearly went into convulsions.

I was shocked at the sheer beauty - this was something no computer, no paintbrush could have ever created.

Next I found myself in the Amazon in Alta Floresta, Brazil, at the Cristalino Jungle Lodge. This is one of the top 50 spots in the world for bird watching. Cristilino's masterstroke is their 50m-high observation tower, from which you can see miles of lush clouded treetops popping up through the mist like giant broccoli. Suddenly, the guide motioned me over excitedly to take a look through the telescope. When I saw what was on the other end, I had a full-blown cardiac moment - it was a Plum-throated Cotinga, feathered in the most startlingly vivid shade of cerulean blue I have ever seen in nature. I was shocked at the sheer beauty - this was something no computer, no paintbrush could have ever created.

I darted across the tiny, wobbly, 50m-high platform to get to the telescope. What was happening to me? Here I was, nearly tripping and falling from a height, just to see a friggin' bird. But that's when it all clicked. I had evolved into a birder. That's it. I'm done. All I can do, I'm told, is to get myself a pair of binoculars, join the American Birding Association and live out what's left of my years as happily as possible.