Seriously, if you read the other two articles about how to determine if you’re a birder, then you already know you are. Now you’re just here to see how many other people you can fit into the bird watcher category. Because we are everywhere.
You spend a lot of time at the local landfills yet never drop off any garbage.
You have so many different birds lists that you have to keep a master list of all the lists.
The corner store is actually at the corner yet it takes you two hours to get a loaf of bread for breakfast.
You own more pairs of binoculars than pairs of shoes.
You feel good about the approaching blizzard and cold snap because it means that northern bird species you rarely get to see will move further south into your region.
You insist on doing the dishes every night because you have a bird feeder visible from the kitchen window.
You keep a pair of binoculars in your desk drawer at work, just in case something interesting flies by the window.
You can sleep through an entire severe thunderstorm which goes over the neighborhood yet the sound of a bird song has you jumping out of bed.
You have more money invested in the high-quality optics of your binoculars and spotting scope than you do in the cost and upkeep of your car.
You have a Wedding Day bird list.
You are quite happy to rise before 4 a.m. and head out into the cold, semi-darkness to see a drab, brown bird that doesn’t even sing very well.
You keep a list of plastic bird yard ornaments seen on your travels.
You keep a life list of birds seen in your dreams.
You decide to do some bird watching near a foreign military installation, despite the warning signs along the perimeter fence.
You tape a checklist to the wall for birds seen while you’re sitting on the toilet, staring out the bathroom window.
You develop a large callous on the tip of your index finger, on the spot where your finger rests on the focus knob of your binoculars.
You look forward to hurricanes season because it’s entirely possible that the storms will blow some rare and unusual birds your way
You maintain a life list for your dog (for species seen during your walks) that would rival the lifelist of many birders.
You normally walk to work in less than half an hour, except during spring, when it suddenly requires three hours to cover the same distance.
You choose a potential mate based on their birding reputation.
You travel to the Grand Canyon for a family vacation and the first place you visit is the nearest sewage ponds.
Your web-browser history file is crammed full of bird watching website pages yet you are blissfully unaware that the internet also has millions of porn sites.
You wash the dishes with binoculars around your neck because you don’t want water to get on them, which would impede the view of the backyard feeders.
When you shut off your computer, it sounds like birds singing rather than the default Windows chimes.
There is a strong correlation between the increase in your bird watching passion and the increased messiness of your house.
Your co-workers know that you’re the guy to talk to about the dead bird they found outside the office building.
You think getting into a traffic accident while looking for a bird is fine as long as the bird was worth ticking off on your checklist.
You walk a half-mile along a sandy beach on crutches just for the chance to see a distant and blurry sea-duck bobbing on the waves.
All of the gifts you receive at Christmas are bird-related.
You sneak up on the neighbor’s cat with a fully-loaded super-soaker watergun because the cat is climbing the tree where you hung a couple of feeders.
You don’t understand why people think these statements are funny, when they seem perfectly normal to you.