Whether you refer to them as birders, twitchers (UK) or cochers (France), these terms describe those people who constantly monitor birding hotspots via apps and social media. Whose camera bag and suitcase remain packed for a 4 a.m. trip to see a rare species on their list. This interest can become an obsession.
“Hardcore twitching can come at a cost – not just financially but emotionally. It can strain friendships, ruin marriages, jeopardise jobs, and drain bank accounts, all in the name of spotting that one elusive bird,” Peter Davies writes in his article about UK birders.
The terminology used to describe birders is often derogatory. In fact, a birding friend says she if she calls herself a birder at a social gathering, it’s a conversation stopper.
Many of us non-birders—the stumble-upon variety like me—have made unfair assumptions about birders.
--that their concentration focuses on anything with feathers, not unlike the concentration of a Great Egret eying a lizard.
- that they prefer to go birding alone in silence rather be accompanied by the constant chatter of a well-meaning non birder.
- that they insist on punctuality when it comes to birding jaunts
On the other hand, birders encourage (not proselytize) the non-birder variety. They demonstrate an inordinate patience with our errors in identification (sometimes embarrassing) and lapses of memory and concentration. They understand our tendency to flock to see colorful divas rather pursue some of the rare species nearby.
They assimilate and regurgitate complex information and dole it out in bitesize tidbits to maintain interest but not overwhelm. They are willing to share their binoculars so we too can view.
This past week I returned to the Orlando Wetlands at a reasonable hour (9:30 a.m.) with my birding friend. We parted ways when we arrived—she had her bucket list, and I had my colorful divas (Roseate Spoonbills) and fledglings to see.
Photographers, birders and amateurs look toward rookeries on the right
Weekdays are the best times to visit. But on weekends, large crowds flock here.
Few people notice the avian antics on display to the left side of the boardwalk. The exquisite plumage of the anhinga as it dries its wings. The heavy-bellied coots that splatter and splash as they attempt something of a run-fly maneuver, skimming the water surface with their lobed feet. A purple gallinule, with its brilliant oil-slick colored plumage, walks atop lily pads. A few great egrets and spoonbills fly overhead, carrying nesting material. If you look closely, an alligator—at least one—lurks beneath watery vegetation. An opportunistic reptile.
Coots, with their big bellies, short wings and lobed feet, make a splatter across the water as they run and fly.
Given the size of the crowd of spectators, it’s surprisingly quiet--only whispered conversation like in a museum or library and the rapid click-click of digital cameras. Binoculars and telephoto lenses aim at the rookeries to the right where bright tufts of white and pink feathers fill low-growing trees. The nesting Great Egrets and Roseate spoonbills I saw two weeks earlier now have fledglings to feed and care for.
Birding rookeries are like apartments in terms of tenants and conversations and comings and goings. From the boardwalk, I hear what sounds like happy and contented muttering. Occasional laughs and squawks. Crashes and thrashes. Croaks. Guttural sounds.
In nearby cabbage palms and low trees, somewhat hidden by thickets of vines, egrets and spoonbills make compatible neighbors. Across the waters, in higher trees, wood storks congregate. The Great Blue Herons perch in large nests in cypress. The sandhill cranes build nests in the reeds. One pair has chosen an area along the sandy berm, a favorite site for alligators also. It’s an area where I dare not tread.
A rookery of Great Egrets and Roseate Spoonbills.
Busy times in the rookery. Roseate Spoonbill parents oversee the feeding & care of their chicks, often called "teaspoons."
The Great Blue Herons builds its nests stop cypress trees.
Wood Storks nest in trees above.
I’ll continue to be a “stumble upon” naturalist--not a birder—but each visit to a birding site provides an opportunity to learn more about the few species I can identify. For now, I’ll leave the Black-bellied Whistling Duck, Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, Vermillion flycatcher, Glossy Ibis and Black Crowned Night Heron for the true birders.
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The Orlando Wetlands is located at Christmas, Fla., approximately 33 miles northeast of the Orlando International Airport and 50 miles northwest of Melbourne.
It's open daily EXCEPT MONDAYS (when its closed) from sunrise to sunset. Check the FaceBook listing for updates and photos.
FYI - If you want to learn more about the birders themselves, I’d recommend the movie, “The Big Year,” (2011), which provides a humorous and touching portrayal of the competitive race for the highest number of species sighted.
Works Cited
Davies, Peter. “What Is A Twitcher?” 12 January 2026. https://www.birdspot.co.uk/bird-watching-for-beginners/what-is-a-twitcher. Accessed 4 March 2026.
Related Works
Gicquel, Jérôme. « Qui Sont Les Cocheurs, Ces Passionnés Qui Se Prennent Le Bec Pour des Oiseaux Rares ? » 26 January 2023. https://www.20minutes.fr/planete/4020652-20230126-cocheurs-passionnes-prennent-bec-oiseaux-rares. Accessed 4 March 2026.
“Six Annoying Habits of Bird Watchers.” BWD Magazine. https://bwdmagazine.com/adventures-in-birding/reflections-on-birds/six-annoying-habits-of-bird-watchers/. Accessed 5 March 2026.
