“List, list, O, list!”*                	
            Confessions of a reformed transgressor
                                        *the ghost in Hamlet 1:5:758

         Birders, once addicted, almost inevitably become hoarders.  In the old 
days, they shot and stuffed birds, then installed them in the parlor in 
bell-jars. Now, lists—-of birds envisioned, birds sought and found, 
birds missed and yearned for—-have become the fruits of birding.  Lists 
occupy the landscape of the past as well as the horizons of imagined 
days to come, sparking memories of luck and derring-do as well as the 
comforting rhythms of the seasons.
        Building significant personal lists for the whole world, or a 
continent, or a taxonomic category like hummingbirds or seabirds, 
requires leisure time and money that few possess, but most of us can 
hope to amass respectable local lists, lists we can reasonably hope to 
add to fairly regularly. At least for a while.  Nothing encourages 
listing elsewhere more than a seemingly stalled Ohio list.  If you have 
390 for Ohio, new additions will come as often to your list as 
lightning-strikes, even if you go out and chase thunderstorms. 
Eventually, so rare will new local species be that you are more likely 
to find yourself adding—-or losing—-ticks for Ohio as you sit in your 
living room, studying the noodlings of the AOU’s Committee on 
Classification and Nomenclature.  You will likely soon develop new 
interests in building lists of birds seen at your yearly vacation spot 
in the U.P., or during Florida trips.  Soon enough you will contemplate 
vacations in Arizona, California, Alaska, or, yes, January in 
Minnesota--planned with at least some listing in mind, and you will be 
truly addicted.
        A bird-list record must record, at a minimum, a species name, a date, 
and a place. To the evidentiary requirements of what/when/where, 
addicted listers may add more---birds seen with one's husband, birds 
photographed, birds heard vocalizing, et cetera.  These additional 
requirements personalize listing, increase its difficulty, and 
additionally—and sometimes significantly--make one’s list harder to 
compare with those of others.  The latter consideration is worth 
thinking about.  My experience is that the birders with truly long lists 
are willing to share their numbers if asked, but that only the wannabees 
add their names to lists of listers’ lists.
        For many, the need to put a check-mark next to a bird name is an 
addictive behavior. To accumulate ticks, an addict will improvise by 
tallying county lists, or year lists, or county year lists. Soon you 
might have as many ticks as a two-dollar dog. Some have imagined having 
their cars emblazoned with an oil company’s logo in return for coupon 
savings on fuel.  I should add that there is exactly zero evidence that 
listers selfishly want to keep their sightings to themselves; indeed, 
electronic communications such as this one are constantly used to 
announce finds, and flash mobs may result for the rarest of them.  These 
gatherings may puzzle the public at large, but listers listen.
Bill Whan
Columbus

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