If you are totally satisfied with your birding ability right now, don’t read any farther…. In other words, if you grab your binoculars, go out to a favorite birding spot, or even your yard, find undisturbed, absolute enjoyment in what you see with no thoughts or wishes of more “proficiency of skills”… Hey, God bless you… stop here… sit down and relax… and forget about reading my ramblings which follow.
Phil Unitt, Curator, San Diego
Museum of Natural History
I’m one of those “never satisfied” types. I can’t help it. Who in my progeny is to blame is a moot point, but this is definitely me. My long suffering kids and wife endure. My real friends realize its part of sharing my journey. And I’m sure any detractors or would be enemies just snicker… and stick another pin in the doll.
But for me, I’ve decided that this not too cleverly disguised strain of perfectionism isn’t such a bad thing after all… especially when it comes to birds. Now, if you’ve already summoned the foolish courage to read this far, I’d like to be so bold as to share this affliction with you. In fact, I would love to see it become an incurable contagion, sweeping through the birding population, sparing no one in its careful, measured march to a new level of field observation proficiency.
Over thirty years ago in Southern California, during the first exciting decade of my birding experience, I met Phil Unitt, the current editor of Western Birds, Curator at the San Diego Museum of Natural History, and arguably one of out most knowledgeable ornithologists. All good now, except in the early-70’s Phil would have been hard pressed to tell you the difference between an Ovenbird and the proverbial “20 blackbirds baked in a pie.” Then he may have been more into eating pie than identifying the latest avian rarity discovery at Death Valley’s Furnace Creek Ranch, the California birder’s world equivalent of Mecca and Medina. (Well, maybe I'm exaggerating a little bit.) But needless to say, anyone that was "a somebody" in the birding community went there on at least a twice yearly journey of discovery, searching for the steady stream of eastern rarities predictably encountered there.
Living in San Diego, Phil too made the obligatory long car trips, but in the process was cursed with one of the biggest blessings of his newly conceived and embryonic birding journey… his often inescapable birding companions were Jon Dunn and Guy McCaskie. Jon was arguably then already one of the most talented young field ornithologists to tackle the newly emerging intricacies of identification, distribution and vagrancy. And Guy was the acknowledged West Coast icon of a small but growing cadre of birders whose field identification (and finding) skills would become legend… and he was a mentor of Jon too. Through those lengthy weekend car trips to everywhere and anywhere in the state, Phil endured the pokes at and the prods of his field skills, often silently assimilating, digesting… and steadily improving in a way that inevitably no one would dare question.
Phil learned that dissatisfaction coupled with action was the doorway to endless horizons of continuing improvement. Today Jon (primary consultant and editor for the National Geographic Society Field Guide to the Birds of North America, a member of the American Ornithologists’ Union Checklist and Nomenclature Committee, and a much sought after tour guide for Wings) and Guy (longtime regional editor of the Southern Pacific Coast Region of North American Birds, Secretary of the California Bird Rarities Committee, frequent author and consultant, and acknowledged dean of California birders) both hold little, if any, superiority in knowledge and ability to Phil. At the least, through a relentless pursuit of “dissatisfaction resolution” he has become their equal.
Let’s be personally practical. What is your “dissatisfaction factor?” What is the next hurtle to meet head-on, rather than avoiding? What are the "id issues" that frustrate you? Maybe it’s that all time nemesis of many birders, gulls in anything less than full adult, field guide perfect plumage? Or perhaps those very confusing, nondescript ducks in their post-breeding drab eclipse plumage? And then there are always the juveniles of almost every species, bearing little apparent resemblance to their adult relatives. Vocalizations are another hurtle for many who find the quick “That’s a ___________” identification, without ever seeing even one feather of the living bird, a bit incomprehensible.
Each one of us knows… this one isn’t a mystery… what the next step for us as birders may be… the step to move beyond our “dissatisfaction factor” is very clear. And just as its clarity is universal, so is its uniqueness very individual and personal. Your step is your own, and quite unlike mine or that of anyone else.
Right now, my personal step is getting to know all the subspecies that can be seen in Idaho, and then being able to identify those that are separable in the field. I’ve made a dent in the process…. I make numerous mistakes. Sometimes I just want to give up in frustration…. Many times I’m sure that no one but me even cares about which race of an Orange-crowned Warbler they’re looking at… so why in the name of John J. Audubon should I care?!
But I’ve decided to persist… and so can you in whatever the dissatisfaction factor may be that is dogging your steps. You can take the next step! None of us may be the next Phil… or Jon… or Guy…, but you can become the next you! There is an unspeakable satisfaction in knowing that you were not satisfied with your dissatisfaction, did something about it, moved on… and became all that you could be as a birder.
But for me, I’ve decided that this not too cleverly disguised strain of perfectionism isn’t such a bad thing after all… especially when it comes to birds. Now, if you’ve already summoned the foolish courage to read this far, I’d like to be so bold as to share this affliction with you. In fact, I would love to see it become an incurable contagion, sweeping through the birding population, sparing no one in its careful, measured march to a new level of field observation proficiency.
Over thirty years ago in Southern California, during the first exciting decade of my birding experience, I met Phil Unitt, the current editor of Western Birds, Curator at the San Diego Museum of Natural History, and arguably one of out most knowledgeable ornithologists. All good now, except in the early-70’s Phil would have been hard pressed to tell you the difference between an Ovenbird and the proverbial “20 blackbirds baked in a pie.” Then he may have been more into eating pie than identifying the latest avian rarity discovery at Death Valley’s Furnace Creek Ranch, the California birder’s world equivalent of Mecca and Medina. (Well, maybe I'm exaggerating a little bit.) But needless to say, anyone that was "a somebody" in the birding community went there on at least a twice yearly journey of discovery, searching for the steady stream of eastern rarities predictably encountered there.
Living in San Diego, Phil too made the obligatory long car trips, but in the process was cursed with one of the biggest blessings of his newly conceived and embryonic birding journey… his often inescapable birding companions were Jon Dunn and Guy McCaskie. Jon was arguably then already one of the most talented young field ornithologists to tackle the newly emerging intricacies of identification, distribution and vagrancy. And Guy was the acknowledged West Coast icon of a small but growing cadre of birders whose field identification (and finding) skills would become legend… and he was a mentor of Jon too. Through those lengthy weekend car trips to everywhere and anywhere in the state, Phil endured the pokes at and the prods of his field skills, often silently assimilating, digesting… and steadily improving in a way that inevitably no one would dare question.
Phil learned that dissatisfaction coupled with action was the doorway to endless horizons of continuing improvement. Today Jon (primary consultant and editor for the National Geographic Society Field Guide to the Birds of North America, a member of the American Ornithologists’ Union Checklist and Nomenclature Committee, and a much sought after tour guide for Wings) and Guy (longtime regional editor of the Southern Pacific Coast Region of North American Birds, Secretary of the California Bird Rarities Committee, frequent author and consultant, and acknowledged dean of California birders) both hold little, if any, superiority in knowledge and ability to Phil. At the least, through a relentless pursuit of “dissatisfaction resolution” he has become their equal.
Let’s be personally practical. What is your “dissatisfaction factor?” What is the next hurtle to meet head-on, rather than avoiding? What are the "id issues" that frustrate you? Maybe it’s that all time nemesis of many birders, gulls in anything less than full adult, field guide perfect plumage? Or perhaps those very confusing, nondescript ducks in their post-breeding drab eclipse plumage? And then there are always the juveniles of almost every species, bearing little apparent resemblance to their adult relatives. Vocalizations are another hurtle for many who find the quick “That’s a ___________” identification, without ever seeing even one feather of the living bird, a bit incomprehensible.
Each one of us knows… this one isn’t a mystery… what the next step for us as birders may be… the step to move beyond our “dissatisfaction factor” is very clear. And just as its clarity is universal, so is its uniqueness very individual and personal. Your step is your own, and quite unlike mine or that of anyone else.
Right now, my personal step is getting to know all the subspecies that can be seen in Idaho, and then being able to identify those that are separable in the field. I’ve made a dent in the process…. I make numerous mistakes. Sometimes I just want to give up in frustration…. Many times I’m sure that no one but me even cares about which race of an Orange-crowned Warbler they’re looking at… so why in the name of John J. Audubon should I care?!
But I’ve decided to persist… and so can you in whatever the dissatisfaction factor may be that is dogging your steps. You can take the next step! None of us may be the next Phil… or Jon… or Guy…, but you can become the next you! There is an unspeakable satisfaction in knowing that you were not satisfied with your dissatisfaction, did something about it, moved on… and became all that you could be as a birder.
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