I Photograph Birds, But I’m Not a Birder

Here’s a small confession that sometimes surprises people: I photograph birds, but I’m not a birder. Not even close.

I don’t keep a life list. I forget species names almost instantly. And if someone asks me to identify a distant silhouette or just ask was that a Kittiwake?, I’ll probably fake a thoughtful look and say I’m not sure. The truth is, I’m genuinely terrible at birds—in the traditional sense.

Which is strange to some people, because I’ve spent a lot of time photographing them. I’ve sat in hides for hours, crawled through snow, walked for hours in the forest. I’ve traveled to specific locations just for a chance to photograph one particular bird. So you’d think I’d know them better by now. But I don’t approach birds the way birders do.

Birdwatchers are often driven by the thrill of identification. They chase names, checklists, migration calendars. They talk in Latin, log sightings in apps, and get genuinely excited when a rare species shows up—even if it’s barely visible at 400 meters. For them, just seeing it is the goal.

That’s not what I’m after.

I chase moments—and light. That rush of energy when two birds clash in a sudden fight, when a predator strikes, or when a bird locks eyes mid-flight. I’m drawn to action. That’s why I love photographing eagles, raptors, and large birds. Their presence commands the frame. The drama in the wingspan, the intensity in their posture—those are the moments I live for. I’m not really into small birds. They just don’t speak to me in the same way.

Funny side note: last year in Mana Pools, I spent a week photographing wildlife alongside a fantastic bird expert. After the trip, he sent us all a detailed list of the bird species we’d “seen” during the week—if I remember correctly, it was something like 140 species. If you’d asked me? I would’ve said maybe 10 or 15. Tops.

For me, it’s not about what the bird is, but whether it can be the hero in a powerful image. How it sits against a dramatic sky. How the background melts. How the light catches the curve of a wing or the tension in a stare. I don’t care if it’s a common gull or something with five hyphens in its name pulled from the depths of a field guide—if the moment and the light are right, I shoot.

So no, I’m not a birder. I’m not interested in ticking boxes or learning every feathered taxonomy. But I am deeply in love with birds—visually. I love how they move, how they carry the wind, how they transform a landscape just by passing through it. And I’ll keep photographing them for that reason alone.