Weasel Words
Or Just a Love Thing
Anyway,
back to the plot. Now, I like to think of myself as a liberal minded, tolerant,
live and let live sort of bloke, although, after making the occasional comment
regarding Saturday night TV, such as “Oh, I see we have another eight hours of talentless, so called celebrities,
dancing on ice, in a jungle, while wearing a bucket on their head”, I confess, I do get reminded that “ lots of people like these
programmes”, “It takes all sorts to make a world” and/or “It would be a dull
world if we were all the same”.
Suitable chastened,
I slope off to watch (fall asleep during), quirky foreign language crime series,
old recordings of wildlife programmes or repeats of QI on Dave. Honestly, I
really do try and take on board, the right of every citizen to pursue, without
criticism, whatever lawful pastime they wish, no matter how brain numbingly banal
it may appear to me.
As a re-invigorated
wildlife watcher, who no doubt bores the pants of anyone foolish enough, not
to share my interests, with a different lifestyle perspective, by
recounting stories of weasels, rocketing up trees faster than the “Dear
Leaders” commemorative centenary whizzbang, I have never thought it my place,
to suggest that the out and out twitchers and list obsessive birders, may be
missing something.
Fishing for compliments, No, in this case I think it was a perch.
For me,
the fun is being out in an environment where trees and plants are springing
into life, butterflies are emerging and anything from an osprey to an otter
might just turn up. But, by the same token, if all I see is a blue tit making
it’s nest or a bank vole sneaking in and out of it’s home, to grab a seed or
two, well that does it for me too.
So forgive
me, but this week my tolerance has slipped a little.
At one end
of the scale, while happily snapping orange tip and comma butterflies on a
glorious warm spring afternoon, I encountered a highly knowledgeable, (but
apparently soulless) top twitcher, who was writing off his fleeting visit to
our reserve as a waste of time, because the pair of ducks he had come to “tick
off” were not present. In actual fact they were present – but not where he
expected to see them, or indeed was likely to, in a five minute dash.
At the other
end of the scale I found myself in a hide with a foul mouthed half wit, who
needed to call a friend (on speaker) and boast about spotting “only a f---king
watchamacallit, ere, you tell im what it is, I’ve f---king dun im, e aint seen
one of them, whatdiducallits”. Followed by, “wotsat, u said that was over
there, isat f---king rare, ere, let me foto that, wotsit f---king called”.
Dear God,
has the human race now degenerated to a state, where some individuals find the
need to be competitive and score points off each other at birdwatching, even
when they can’t tell the difference between a dunnock and a dung beetle. Please
do not take my comments as snobbish or prudish. As a bird, insect and plant
identifier, I am pretty average at best and want to make it crystal clear, that
I have found the vast majority of birders and other nature watchers, immensely
helpful, patient and tolerant of my questions and ignorance and would hope that,
one day, in turn, I could be the same as them.
If these
odd individuals sadden me, because (in my opinion) they are missing out on a
lot of the real fun, their lives must be utopian compared to the youths that once
again kicked in our hide doors. Just so they can scrabble around on the floor
for a fleeting moments sexual gratification, in between filling their faces
with sweets, cans of pop and often something stronger. The evidence, all of
which they leave, strewn around the hides and surrounding area.
It takes
all sorts to make a world?
All photographs taken by and © Tony Bedford
