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Voices

Love birds

By Meredith Goldstein
Globe Staff / July 8, 2009
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The secret to sustaining a long, romantic relationship may be an interest in ornithology.

That is not a new sexual position or religion.

It is the study of birds, and it makes couples happy, assuming both parties are into it.

People who like birds and manage to pair off with other people who like birds have a better chance of staying together than people who don’t. Of course, there’s no study to support that thesis, but it seems to be true. The couples I’ve known who bird together connect on a level that goes beyond spiritual, beyond shared religion and geography. Birders around New England tell me I’m right - that the bond formed while bird-watching is stronger than the connection you make by being a baseball fan or taking a cooking class with someone. That’s because birding isn’t a hobby, it’s a lifestyle. It’s about traveling to romantic places - and then driving three hours to a less romantic spot to hike through a dirty swamp to see a rare winged thing.

“It has cemented our relationship,’’ explains Worcester birding expert Mark Lynch, who is married to birder Sheila Carroll.

Lynch says birders aren’t necessarily born with the passion. He and his wife developed the interest together. They started with a pair of binoculars and took trips to scenic spots like Plum Island. Now the pair leads classes for Mass Audubon. They’re a birding power couple.

“I think both people have to be birders,’’ Lynch tells me, considering the fate of what he calls mixed marriages between birders and nonbirders. “Birders have a tendency to be going out every weekend, both days.’’

Lynch was recently licensed for a day to marry Kevin and Rebecca Bourinot, a couple who met through birding. Lynch reports that the twosome had birding checklists to keep guests entertained during the reception. They honeymooned in Costa Rica, with big binoculars.

“They’re so in love it’s ridiculous,’’ Lynch said.

Lynch says the deep romantic connection between birders might have something to do with the fact that the art of birding parallels dating. In the beginning, birders are all about quantity. They’re simply looking to see as many birds as they can. Soon, though, they evolve and mature. They get sick of checking off a list and begin to hold out for the rare find. When people go through that maturation process together, they are forever connected. They are passionate and patient.

Peter Alden, one of the region’s best-known naturalists, is also one of the region’s most eligible birders. Alden tells me that when two bird people get together, the potential for happiness is great, partly because it’s so difficult to find another birder to date. When he was younger, the birding community was all young men and much older women. For that reason, Alden and his birding friends wound up marrying people who didn’t quite understand or care for the lifestyle.

“We all had nonbirding wives. Most of those relationships wound up not working out,’’ he said.

Alden has learned that it’s worth waiting for someone who is more like him, someone who would rather brave a winter storm than visit an art museum, someone who knows what’s precious as opposed to what’s common.

Last fall, for instance, Alden was walking around Great Meadows National Wildlife Refuge when he spotted a very attractive woman looking at ducks. She was holding binoculars. Alden took that as a good sign, but tested her anyway. He approached and asked her what she had seen that day. She said an American wigeon and a Northern shoveler. A good start.

Alden pressed his luck and asked the woman to name the rarest bird she’d ever seen.

“I figure, if she says cardinal, she’s a loser.’’ (Cardinals are apparently quite common.)

But she didn’t say cardinal. She said orange-breasted falcon.

“I’ve only seen like two of those,’’ Alden said, still excited by the memory.

At the moment, they are friends - with potential, of course.

Meredith Goldstein can be reached at mgoldstein@globe.com. You can read her daily Love Letters dispatch and chat with her every Wednesday at 1 p.m. at www.boston.com/loveletters. And you can start boning up on bird-watching on Page 28.