Pretty much all the above for me. Though I have lapsed a couple of times in recent years, so am by no means perfect. Hypocrite? Yeah. So sue me.
So what did it for me?
Burn-out. Got increasingly manic about it until the mid 90's, then realised I was spending a fortune on year-listing alone, never mind the big twitches. Plus I realised what an enormous amount of damage I must be doing environmentally. I felt rather selfish, and very foolish.
Disillusionment. Frankly I really didn't much like a lot of the people I was meeting at twitches. Just how interesting can a crowd of obsessives be? (Apart from to a psychologist
) Witnessed some shocking behaviour too, and couldn't understand how a controlled flush was ever good for anything bar a tick on a list - it certainly wasn't doing a knackered migrant much good.
Speeding points. Strangely not a factor. I didn't get nicked at all in the manic years, which given the annual mileage and the ignorant speeding for megas I did was a miracle. Instead got caught several years later on a deserted M20 after seeing a Serin, which just goes to show Fate has a sense of humour. Unlike the copper in question.
Failed relationships. Too many casualties to mention, and let's face it, when you're prepared to let your hobby cause emotional upset in others, you've got a problem.
Marriage. Puts things into perspective all right.
Boredom. Yes, it's kind of cool to see something hugely rare in the UK, but it's a lot more fun to try and find it yourself. Which leads to...
Moving to Shetland. A real dampener on twitching, but a huge buzz in trying (and occassionally managing!) to find your own birds.
Anyway, doubtless the twitching scene is much the richer for being rid of such an antisocial, miserable, critical, undedicated git.
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