Would you risk your car's suspension for a sparrowhawk?
As a trading assistant at WWT Caerlaverock, it’s not a mandatory part of my job description to know a thing about birds and wildlife. I don’t own an anorak or wellies. I don’t know how to talk about tits without secretly finding it funny and I am certainly no good with bird identification.
But it is part of my job to have in-depth conversations with visitors about their experience on the reserve and I soon realised it was sink or swim. I was tired of dodging conversational bullets with my lack of understanding: lots of ‘mms’ and ‘ahs’ and my favoured blanket response: ‘oh that’s interesting’. Translation: I have absolutely no clue what you’re on about but I’m happy for you. I made it my mission to learn what I could in order to navigate those discussions.
And over time I’ve learned enough to get by. What has surprised me though is how infectious the whole subject can be. The hype starts to rub off on you and before you know it, you’re almost crashing your car when you spot a bird of interest, fumbling around anxiously for your phone so you can document the experience.
That’s exactly what happened to me just a couple of mornings ago. For once in my life, I was early to work and that obviously brought some good karma with it. I pulled into the carpark but jolted to a halt as I laid eyes on what I was sure was a sparrowhawk, right in front of me. It had the regal, proud stance of a raptor yet seemed comparatively small to the others I’d seen distantly.
Sophie's sparrowhawk perched on a branch in the carpark (taken through her car window)
The video I took was atrocious but the moment was special. I sat in my car gawking at the bird perched within the underbrush of the tree, clutching the branches with its talons. It hopped gracefully from one branch to another, unbothered by the roar of my elderly engine. It was thrilling and serene all at once.
I won’t be going out and buying an anorak anytime soon but it’s worth mentioning that an appreciation for birdwatching is contagious. It forces you to stop for a minute and live in the moment. Even those of us who claim to be uninterested might risk our car’s suspension for one of those fleeting moments.
Words and pictures by Sophie Henderson
