Look up

“Twitchers flock.”

That’s the headline, every time. “Twitchers flock to [unlikely place] to see [exotic bird with mundane name].”

“Twitchers flock to Abergavenny housing estate to see Rufous-cheeked Writchet.” (To avoid confusion: this is not an actual bird.)

I have an image of an overworked sub-editor trying to find an alternative. But really there isn’t one. “Twitchers flock” is right there, worn smooth by years of use, but warm and familiar. And it’s fine. Sort of.

‘Twitcher’ is in itself an odd word, supposedly derived from the impatient tics displayed by enthusiasts as they wait for a bird – an eagerly anticipated bird they might have travelled halfway across the country to see – to show its face, or in fact any part of its anatomy. Just enough for the twitcher to be able to add it to their list.

Tick.

‘Twitcher’ is the word used by most people when they learn I like birds.

“Ooh, bit of a twitcher, eh?”

I hesitate, poised for rebuttal.

“The word ‘twitcher’ is really reserved for people wh…