I’m not exactly an avid (avian) bird-watcher, but I recently went out to Rutland Water with a mate to go and see the mating pair of osprey that they have out there. Apparently there used to be heaps of these birds around, but it’s proven difficult to re-introduce them into England and the UK. The Rutland Water guys are pretty stoked to have them, all in all I think.
Anyway, it turns out that bird watching is not as horrendously boring as I had originally thought; although it does require being quiet, which is not exactly one of my strong suits. There are heaps of birds to see, and if you’re with an accomplished bird-watcher (as I was) then you migh even learn a thing or two (which I did, but have subsequently forgotten, unsurprisingly).
So, on to the point of the post: We were sitting in one of the bunkers (I don’t know their proper name) , looking for these osprey when a most unlikely person sat down next to me. He was absolutely covered in intricate tattoos and spoke with a rough-as-guts accent, with multiple piercings to boot; a leather jacket would have made him the perfect biker gang boss. But nontheless there he was, with nuclear family in tow, admiring the birdlife and taking photos with his ultra-flash digital SLR with massive telephoto lens. An interesting lesson on not judging a book by its cover.