"The study of nature is the study of one's self."
— John Burroughs
From a naturalist's sensibilities, the modern chaser has inverted what I like to think birding is about. Increasingly, the most important tools aren't field skills, patience, or deep familiarity with habitat — they're infrastructure. Bird alerts fire instantly to a smartphone, a car closes the distance, and flexible time makes the whole thing possible. None of that requires knowing how to read a landscape or anticipate bird behavior; it just requires being plugged in and able to go.
Often, by the time you arrive, the hard work is already done. Other chasers are on site, scopes trained, fingers pointing. The bird is pre-identified, pre-located, and helpfully narrated. Even underdeveloped ID skills rarely matter in that moment, because the collective has already solved the problem for you. You're not finding the bird so much as confirming its continued existence by looking where you're told to look.
There's nothing inherently unethical or wrong about this kind of birding, but it's hard to argue it isn't diminished. When birding becomes a matter of electronic alerts, roads & automobiles, and someone else already having the bird in the scope, the act shifts from perception to participation. The satisfaction comes from being present rather than from understanding, from confirmation rather than discovery. Whether that's enough depends on what someone wants birding to be — but it's no longer the same thing.
For others, it explains why chasing can feel oddly hollow, like reading the last page of a mystery without having followed the story. Knowing where to stand is not the same thing as knowing why the bird is there — and that difference still matters, at least to some of us.
Often, by the time you arrive, the hard work is already done. Other chasers are on site, scopes trained, fingers pointing. The bird is pre-identified, pre-located, and helpfully narrated. Even underdeveloped ID skills rarely matter in that moment, because the collective has already solved the problem for you. You're not finding the bird so much as confirming its continued existence by looking where you're told to look.
There's nothing inherently unethical or wrong about this kind of birding, but it's hard to argue it isn't diminished. When birding becomes a matter of electronic alerts, roads & automobiles, and someone else already having the bird in the scope, the act shifts from perception to participation. The satisfaction comes from being present rather than from understanding, from confirmation rather than discovery. Whether that's enough depends on what someone wants birding to be — but it's no longer the same thing.
For others, it explains why chasing can feel oddly hollow, like reading the last page of a mystery without having followed the story. Knowing where to stand is not the same thing as knowing why the bird is there — and that difference still matters, at least to some of us.
All images © 2026 Mike McDowell