Bird Nerd

I have always been partial to a twitch.

I tend to keep it under wraps, however. The more acute social observer may notice it, though. I get pretty excited when I see an RSPB stall in the street, especially when they have those little bird badges. A keen eye may also clock the Collins bird guide on my shelf or my rubber necking on a public bus as we whizz past an open field.

Camping up at the Balranald reserve in North Uist allowed the real me to flourish.

Off with the skin tight jeans, the leather boots and long, blue coat (complete with secret bird badge). I broke out the tent that day in my practical fleece (oh the comfort), my weather hardy trousers which dwarfed my besandled, bleach white feet; two smoked haddocks strung up in velcro. I was home.

I dressed the same as everyone else on the site, and everyone else was over sixty. I was welcomed into the pack. Indeed, I think this get-up was a pre-requisite for fitting in. Much like a leather jacket for an aspiring Hell's Angel. They knew I knew what was up. That call was a Lapwing, not a Redshank. That there is a Dunlin, not a Snipe.

An older gentleman even leant me a pair of his binoculars, convinced, no doubt, of the superior identification abilities that my new style so unmistakably suggested (not detered, evidently, by my own lack of binos - that's what they call them these days).

I'm pretty sure it was this clothing choice that secured our lift to Berneray the next day, too. Who could refuse a young chap in sandals with toothpaste around his mouth? And besides they watched us try to cook Super Noodles in the wind for half an hour the night before, which only resulted in lukewarm, mildy textured chicken juice.

Returning to St Andrews I'll have to put it back on the down low, though.

However, I might yet hang off the back of a twitching tour, separate from the group and dismissive of their lameness as I kick mud up my burgundy boots.

"HA!, get a load of this lot... matching fleeces and all... WAIT, was that a Yellowhammer!?... I mean, Pfft, lamewads..."