Find your wings: What kind of birder do you aspire to be?

Returning readers know that I am mega-thankful for birding. As in, let-me-list-the-ways thankful. The list is real, and it keeps growing, my latest entry being “lifer dances and Lifer Pie.” Birding has a silly side.

Today I’m pondering yet another thing I love about birding, its accessibility. Entry barriers are few: anyone can enjoy the hobby on some level, in their own way.

I’ve read articles lately about how blind people are birding. So are people who can’t walk or even go outside. The hobby is open to all. It helps, of course, that birds are everywhere. We only need to look and listen.

These thoughts fluttered through my thankful head last month after returning from an exciting week of “target birding” in Southern California. It was a brand of dawn-to-dusk birdwatching I only do a few times a year — visiting new places, chasing down regional specialties, adding birds to my life list, and sharing the experience with strangers who quickly become friends.

Back home in Glen Ellyn, I still had a challenge to meet. As mentioned here before, my goal was to see or hear 25 species in the yard between New Year’s Day and the first day of spring. I tried this in 2025 and failed badly. On the bright side, one of my 18 species was a flyover Bald Eagle, not an easy yard bird.

This year I aced the test, tallying 28 species thanks to final week visitations by Blue Jay, American Tree Sparrow, Fox Sparrow and Brown-headed Cowbird. Sandhill Cranes were in the air, too. The only expected bird I missed was Great Horned Owl.

(To review, a “yard bird” is any bird seen or heard when you have at least one foot on your property. That means you can count birds high in the sky or perched in a tree down the street. A “yardie” is any new addition to your yard list. Sometimes, a yardie is also a lifer, like my first Pine Siskin in 1998.)

Completing my winter yard challenge was a kick. I worked at it, looking and listening more closely. I also put an old tactic to work, tossing handfuls of mixed seed on the ground in strategic places. It paid off, even though it killed me to make life easier for the House Sparrows and squirrels. I’m continuing the practice this spring in hopes of enticing a Brown Thrasher or Eastern Towhee.

This is all to say that birding offers many ways to have fun. Seeing a bunch of new birds in California was a blast, but so was upping my yard game during winter’s final days. Home or away, I’m a happy birder.

I hope that goes for you, too. But besides a happy one, what kind of birder are you? What kind of birding do you enjoy most? What kinds of bird-related activities bring you joy? It’s worth considering.

I confess to getting carried away writing about lifers and listing milestones and Big Days and Big Years and rare bird chases and stakeouts — aspects of the hobby that interest me. But I appreciate that no two birders are alike.

All birders do not arise at 5 a.m. All do not use the Merlin app. Some don’t even keep a life list. Imagine that!

We need all kinds of birders, from extreme and serious to casual and part-time. Young and old. Able-bodied and physically challenged.

Members of our tribe have much in common, of course, starting with curiosity about birds. We also share a desire to connect with nature. Birding provides that connection, which is good therapy these days.

How you engage with the hobby is personal. Birding can be as challenging or as easy as we care to make it. That’s part of what makes it so accessible.

Whatever approach you choose, there’s nothing wrong with having a routine. Bird on, and bird as you wish. It’s all good! But I urge you to keep an open mind about new birding experiences. You might uncover different aspects of the hobby that make it even more fulfilling.

For me, that’s been writing, giving talks, supporting bird conservation, and traveling to new places. For others it could be photography, studying migration, or leading field trips.

It can take a while to find our wings, but we gradually identify what kind of birders we are or aspire to be. If we’re lucky, as I believe all birders are, it’s a journey of discovery that never ends.

• Jeff Reiter’s column appears regularly in Neighbor. You can reach him via his blog, Words on Birds.