The first question people typically ask about binoculars is, "What do the numbers mean?" This is one question that any expert can handle with ease, and I know a few salespeople who could answer it in their sleep. It's the most common way to begin a discussion on binoculars.
After this, though, the discussion usually becomes a little sticky, if not downright stuck. The culprit here is magnification. For sure, magnification is why birders buy binoculars, but it is also one feature that generates a lot of hot air. Every birder has an opinion on magnification, and there is never a shortage of advice as to what constitutes the best magnification for birding.
But much of this information is subjective and personal. People tend to be emotional about magnification, and quite irrational. Some birders recommend the highest magnification possible for birding binoculars, regardless of the consequences, while others maintain that an entire arsenal of binocular magnifications is needed to be a complete birder. And then there are those who proclaim their personal choice of magnification to be superior to all others. No wonder beginners become confused.
The tragedy here is that beginners often dwell on magnification at the expense of other features. They fail to recognize that magnification is just one part of the overall optics package, and not necessarily the most important one. But this is a tough concept to sell, as any expert knows.
For this reason, I've often wished that binoculars were designated in reverse of the present order. Objective size would come first, and then the magnification. Instead of a 7x50, we would have a 50x7. This might begin a discussion on something other than magnification, and it could also underscore the importance of the objective and related features. Let's give the second binocular number the credit it deserves. Reverse the current system! Help restore sanity and harmony for all who carry binoculars!
Well, okay. It was worth a try. I've been on this planet long enough to know that I will never see a 50x7 binocular, but it's probably just as well. With the current magnification mania, people would just assume that the 50 was the magnification, and even then, someone would ask for even more. Magnification can be addictive.
But just how much magnification do we really need for birding? How much performance do we gain by switching from a 7x to a 10x pair of binoculars? Will a 7x work for distant waterfowl, hawks, and shorebirds? Should I keep my 8x or sell the farm to buy the new 10x? Do I need to carry my 7x and my 10x when I go birding? Which one should I leave in the car? Are 7x binoculars really just for wimps? Why would anyone want 6x binoculars? Should I sell all my binoculars and just use a spotting scope?
These are just a few of the many questions I receive from birders about magnification. I understand their concerns about magnification, because, I, too, have wrestled with this monster and have scars to prove it. But after many years of experience in the field, I have come to the conclusion that this whole issue of magnification is nothing more than a paper tiger. No one needs to lose any sleep over magnification.
When I started birding many (many) years ago, the conventional wisdom was that low-power binoculars, with their wide fields of view, should be used for close-in work to follow sparrows and warblers as they flitted about the foliage. A nice, stable seven-power glass was also recommended for elderly birders who couldn't steady higher magnifications. Ten-power models were regarded as best for distant shorebirds, waterfowl, or raptors, or as the glass of choice for "experts." Spotting scopes were considered specialty instruments for those occasional long-range challenges. It all sounded simple, and it had a ring of truth. And yes, this advice is still heard today.
Of course in those early days, I longed to be an expert, so I went straight to 10-power binoculars. I was young and confident, and quickly put that 10 to work for all my birding -- just like an expert. In no time at all, I concluded that 10-power was indeed magnification of choice for expert birders, and to my delight I found many birders who agreed with me. I began to wonder why other magnifications were even made.
Then fate conspired to lay a beautiful seven-power roof prism in my path. Since experts were known to own more than one pair of binoculars, I decided to buy the glass, even though I knew that 10-power was still superior. If nothing else, I knew it would be a good backup, or an impressive pair of binoculars to share with friends.
But seven-power? How much birding could I do with only seven-power? Since I was dying to test my new binoculars anyway, I decided to do some research. I intentionally left my 10-power glass at home and started to carry only the seven. It wasn't easy, but I knew that sacrifices had to be made in the name of science. And, it would be an opportunity to prove forever the superiority of 10-power glass. Experts everywhere would thank me.
I proceeded with total objectivity. I used my seven in the marsh, in the forest, in the mountains, in the backyard, on the prairie (a lot), and in any situation I could devise that would expose the seven for the inferior magnification that it was. I was in a hurry, and longed to complete my research. After all, an expert couldn't afford to be seen too often with a wimpy binocular.
But the research took longer than expected. That little pair of seven-power binoculars just refused to cooperate. It maintained itself stubbornly through every test and all possible conditions. It captured soaring buteos and distant waterfowl, as well as prairie sparrows and shorebirds on the flats. It did everything that a "long distance" 10 was supposed to do, and it did it with style. If these were inferior binoculars, then why couldn't I put them down?
That's when I decided to get tough. The seven might look good solo, but how would it fare in a direct shootout with the 10? I devised a test. I would observe a bird with the seven pair first, and then the 10, and record how many times the 10 scored an ID when the seven could not. This would be objective, quantifiable proof of the 10's superiority. No one could dispute such hard evidence.
About 100 test birds later, I abandoned the research. It didn't seem possible, but there was not a single instance where the 10-power glass proved clearly superior. The seven-power glass matched it, identification for identification, even when I used a rest to steady the 10. Any bird that could be identified with the 10 could also be identified with the seven, and any bird that could not be identified with seven could not really be identified with the 10. Clearly, as tools for birding, I could find no significant difference between the two.
No real difference between seven- and ten-power binoculars? Conventional wisdom wrong? Needless to say, I was one shaken expert. But I knew what had to be done. It was time to warn others. It was the expert thing to do.
But apparently I was too late. To my surprise, many experts agree with my conclusion. They had known all along that magnification in binoculars is no big deal. They told me that a good birder could make any magnification work.
This was new wisdom that I hadn't heard before, and at first I considered joining this new group of experts. But then it dawned on me. It might be better to let all birders decide about magnification for themselves. After all, if someone really believes that using a certain magnification will make a person a better birder, then maybe it will.
Besides, no matter what magnification a birder prefers these days, there is probably an expert somewhere who will agree. The trick is to ask the right one.