Goal Hanger

I know less about birds than I do about trains, but I enjoy bird watching, too. I explained my favoured technique to my daughter’s partner. I don’t look out for rare birds so much as look out for bird watchers who are already looking out for rare birds. It cuts out a lot of faffing about and I am on the case straight away. My only encounter with a long-eared owl, for example, happened because I noticed a huddled group of onlookers staring into a hedge in Norfolk, as I drove past.

If, when I turn up, the bird in question is hiding in a crowd of other birds with [arguably] quite similar features, I just ask someone at my elbow with more knowledge than me [i.e. most folk present and all of those appropriately dressed in camouflage outfits or possessing very sturdy tripods], where I should be aiming my telescope. I may give the deserving bird - after all, it has probably flown thousands of miles in the wrong direction to entertain us all - about ten minutes. Then, before my hands get too cold, I make the mental addition to my life list and go for a nice lunch in a nearby pub - job done.

My wife calls me a “mere ticker.” She says it like I am only one step up from being a violent criminal. My daughter’s partner likened my behaviour to a footballing goal hanger. I am in the right place at the right time [due to modern technology] and then all I have to do to score is point towards the goal and open one eye.

Yesterday, the hedge that was in front of me here at home was replaced with a fence. My wife is particularly disappointed about the deterrent effect that this will have on our local wildlife and she actually made a forlorn, last-minute plea to the neighbours for a hedgehog gateway to be incorporated within one of the panels. I am personally encouraged that a blue tit, a great tit and a robin have all seen fit to perch on the new fence already this morning. It’s not even dinner time on day one and I haven’t had to move a muscle to tick them off.