When the end hits, I'll be out bird watching.
Warblers did always crane the neck. This bird in particular, the Cerulean Warbler, makes its living high in the tree canopy, plucking tiny insects from the leaves. They weren't easy to see before it hit and I never had the luck of living that close to them. Now I’m thinking, if I'm going to get ripped apart and eaten anyway, I might as well start working on my dead list.
One of the benefits of tracking down birds is that you are paying attention to the sounds and movements- a twitch in the leaves to my left, a high pitched whistle from the branches above- and this has immediate benefits to staying alive. The downside is when you get a bird in your bins, especially a bird you're seeking, the trade off is alertness for enjoyment. It just take seconds to get bit or scratched and transform your world into a wrenching sickness followed by a fiendish search for human flesh. Sooner or later, I’m going down, but how many birds can I see before that unfortunate moment? That’s why I call it my dead list.