I've never been a fan of twitchers. Those obsessive birdwatchers, traipsing through the countryside with their binoculars and field guides, ruining the peace and quiet with their constant chatter and clicking cameras, contributing to global warming with their insatiable desire to see every last bird on the planet. Very often, when they arrive to spot yet another rare species, the bird has already flown off. Karma is a bird.

But then, something happened. I found myself joining the ranks of the very people I had always despised. It all started with some rare bird sightings that we had noticed while checking our eBird account. Costa Ballena in Rota! Again? I had been there less than a week before, hadn't seen anything extraordinary. I had rather spent the afternoon relaxing on the sofa, but in the end I decided to go and have a look. The species in question were: Eurasian Teal, Tufted Duck and Lesser Scaup.
I'm not sure what drew me in. Maybe it was the thrill of the chase, the excitement of finding something so unexpected. Or maybe it was just a case of curiosity getting the better of me. Whatever the reason, I found myself packing my camera and binoculars and heading out to the coast, armed with a field guide and a newfound determination to spot these elusive creatures, with some techno music sounding through the car speakers to cheer me up.

My eyes scanned every square metre of the artificial Lake called Lago Norte. Before long, I spotted my first lifer of the day, a Tufted Duck, with its dark head and yellow eyes, amidst a group of Pochards.

In that moment, I understood what had drawn me in. It wasn't just about seeing a rare bird; it was about connecting with nature, about appreciating the beauty and diversity of the world around me. And as I stood there, watching the Tufted Duck go about its business, I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for my previous disdain of twitchers.

After all, who was I to judge? I had just dedicated my whole afternoon to tracking down a rare bird myself. And in doing so, I had gained a newfound appreciation for the hobby that I had once so vehemently opposed.

Not seeing any of the other rare species that had been recently reported in Costa Ballena was just an unimportant footnote. Filled with pride, I drove back home with yet another species ticked off. It wasn't until late in the evening while checking the photos on the big monitor that I realised that I had also seen a pair of Lesser Scaup!






So, to all the twitchers out there, I apologise for my previous ignorance. I may not always agree with your methods, but I can no longer deny your passion. And I promise, I'll try to be more understanding the next time I see you tramping through the countryside with your binoculars and field guides. And as far as I am concerned: I am secretly longing for another lifer. In the province of Cadiz I only have around one hundred species to go.
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