Almost daily on the last Flock to Marion Cruise in 2022, I would retreat to a small deck near my room at the back of the ship to find solitude from the crowds. This deck was usually quiet, often occupied only by me and, at most, one or two other birders. There were no guides in this part of the ship—just me and the vast open ocean. It became my space to gather my thoughts and reflect on the privilege of being in such a remote and extraordinary place, an experience few get to have.
The solitude this deck provided changed later in the cruise—but for a good reason. This was the deck where the Tristan Albatross was eventually spotted. When I stepped onto the deck that day, it was packed with birders eager to see and photograph this magnificent bird. What had been my personal retreat became a vibrant gathering spot. The crowds gave me the chance to connect with fellow birders, chatting and sharing the excitement as we scanned the blustery ocean for the next “mega tick.”
It was on this deck that Adam Riley, the owner of Rockjumper Birding Tours, introduced me to one of his friends. With a laugh, Adam joked about doing a podcast episode titled, “A Muslim Birder, a Christian Birder, and an Atheist Birder.” The gentleman he introduced me to was a Muslim birder, someone I had the privilege of having a meaningful conversation with. He was warm, engaging, and easy to talk to—someone I wished I’d had more time to get to know.
As we stood at the back of the ship, faces misted with salty sea spray, we may have shared differing views about God and the universal truths that often divide people. Yet, in that moment, it was the birds that united us. It was our shared passion that created a deeper connection and a chance to build a relationship across our differences.
A small community. Diverse by nature. Diversity in nature.
At the time, I didn’t remember his name, but the experience stayed with me as one of the special memories from that cruise.
I didn’t remember his name until a few days ago. I saw a post on Facebook announcing that Imran Vanker had passed away. As soon as I read the post, the memory of that day on the deck came flooding back. Imran—that warm and inviting person I had the privilege of meeting—was no longer with us. He and his daughter had tragically lost their lives in a car accident.
I messaged Adam Riley to confirm, and he told me he had been one of the last people to see Imran. Though I didn’t know Imran as well as others, that short time at the back of the ship in 2022 left a lasting impact on me.
Birding is one of the fastest-growing hobbies in the world, but moments like these remind me how small and close-knit this passionate community really is. The more I talk to people, the more I realize how many of us share this passion. Yet, we remain a minority. People still scoff at our enthusiasm, still ask the clichéd, “Birds? You mean the feathered kind?” They don’t always understand why we love what we do.
We are a small community, bound by a shared passion. Young and old. People of different faiths and political views. Conservatives and liberals. Yet, what unites us is our love for birds—a small, diverse community brought together by nature’s incredible diversity.
My birding journey has been shaped by those who took the time to invest in me. People like Mark Tittley, who introduced me to birding, gave me my first Roberts Field Guide, and patiently helped me identify my first Egyptian Goose without judgment. Jenny Norman, who spent countless hours helping me ID photos I sent her on WhatsApp. Nicolette Forbes, who mentored me when I served as vice-chair at BirdLife Port Natal (now Birdlife eThekwini KZN), encouraging my passion and supporting my efforts. Garret Skead, who showed me around Cape Town and helped me tick off many lifers. These people—and many others—have been more than friends; they’ve become family. They stood by me during my happiest moments and when I was smiling on the outside but broken on the inside.
This small community is something we need to protect and nurture. We must do all we can to make birding an inviting and inclusive environment. We cannot allow toxicity or divisiveness to take root in this amazing group of people.
For many, birding is an escape from the pain and challenges of life. We don’t always know the struggles others are carrying, and that’s why we must treat one another with kindness and respect.
Let diversity be our hallmark—a community that builds up, not tears down.
This article was originally featured in The Daily Birder email. While we share a limited selection on our website, to ensure you never miss an article, sign up for The Daily Birder email today - https://bit.ly/TBLnewslettersignup
And don’t forget, for those looking to elevate their birding experience, we’ve got a fantastic promotion with Vortex Optics. This season, when you purchase a selected pair of Vortex binoculars or scopes from our online store, The Birding Life will sponsor one hectare on Marion Island as part of the Mouse-Free Marion Project. It’s a great chance to upgrade your birding gear and support conservation efforts on one of our continent’s most incredible islands. Visit our online store
Comments