Every few months, someone discovers birds. Not the actual animals — the anxious, territorial, parasite-ridden, evolutionarily improvised organisms — but the idea of birds: metaphors, branding assets, inspirational wallpaper in a vaguely italic font.

Suddenly, we are informed that the eagle represents leadership, the owl embodies wisdom, the crane signifies longevity, and the sparrow teaches resilience. And as editors of a bird-focused publication, we are expected to appreciate these developments.

But: We have read the field studies. We know about brood parasitism, sibling rivalry, kleptoparasitism, opportunistic aggression, and the occasional enthusiastic consumption of rotting fruit. We have watched the inspirational gull steal food from a pelican. More than once.

And yet, the posters keep coming. They arrive adorned with sunsets, mist, and a sentence fragment in a tasteful sans-serif font. They promise clarity, purpose, transcendence. The birds, meanwhile, are busy screaming, defecating, and negotiating dominance hierarchies in a shrub.

This small collection is our contribution:

  • We have retained the birds.
  • We have retained the typography.
  • We have removed the optimism.

Consider it a public service announcement from editors who have spent too long outdoors.

Written by Kai Pflug
Kai has lived in Shanghai for 22 years. He only started birding after moving to China, so he is far more familiar with Chinese birds than the ones back in his native Germany. As a birder, he considers himself strictly average and tries to make up for it with photography, which he shares on a separate website. Alas, most of the photos are pretty average as well. He hopes that few clients of his consulting firm—focused on China’s chemical industry—ever find this blog, as it might raise questions about his professional priorities. Much of his time is spent either editing posts for 10,000 Birds or cleaning the litter boxes of his numerous indoor cats. He occasionally considers writing a piece comparing the two activities.