A fear of birds may not be the best background for a novice birdwatcher, but Carol Cooke was determined not to let that stop her.

WHAT does the word "entrapment" mean to you? For me, it conjures up pictures of spies with long raincoats working for the KGB, slim blondes sipping martinis, and intricate decoding devices bristling with wires and headphones.

"Entrapment" for North-East bird watchers means mist, rain and an easterly wind; for these are the ideal conditions in which to spot migrant birds, temporarily blown off-course, as they travel from north Europe, to winter in the milder climate of Africa.

I confess to not being a great birdwatcher. In fact, I spend a great deal of my waking hours ensuring that I have as little to do with birds as possible. I am terrified of birds. Give me a high building to perch on, a dozen spiders in the bath, nails scraping along a blackboard, and I am unfazed. But show me a bird on the pavement and I plunge headlong into oncoming traffic.

Not being a birdwatcher was ideal preparation for reading How To Be A Bad Birdwatcher by Simon Barnes. Barnes is a self-confessed bad birder, and says that the greatest benefit is "the calm delight of the utterly normal, and the rare and sudden delight of the utterly unexpected". I thought this was an overly lyrical description of going out early to watch birds knocking about, so decided to find out more.

I contacted Ian Mills, a birdwatcher who has been "kicking bushes and searching the skies over Marsden Quarry in South Shields" for 30 years. Ian was surprisingly amenable to taking out a non-birder who was deeply scared in case we actually came across any birds.

I imagined we would leave home in the middle of the night, and that there would be a severe dress code. I was pleasantly surprised to find that we didn't have to leave before sun up - Ian pointed out that we wouldn't be able to see anything in the dark - and that camouflage clothing is only required on safari trips.

September and October are the optimum months to spot migrant birds, setting off from Scandinavia at dusk and travelling overnight to a warmer climate. If the weather on the North-East coast is windy and misty, then the birds become confused and are forced to make a land fall. Ian says that searching for migrant birds can be exciting and unpredictable because you never know what you might find.

Two years ago, a red flanked bluetail caused a big panic in the birdwatching community. It was spotted in Marsden Quarry and within an hour, over 100 people arrived to get a glimpse of the elusive bird. Birdwatchers from Buckinghamshire got there too late and although they stayed overnight, never saw the bird.

My birdwatching expedition was more successful but not without its moments of farce. As we walked quietly into Marsden Quarry, Ian confided, sotto voce: "This is the best spot in the whole quarry." Just then, a balding chap appeared and began to call out his dog's name. "Pebbles!" rang out in the clear morning air. Despite this row and my fear of birds, I managed to see, or hear, one goldfinch, three robins, three magpies, two mistlethrush, one dunnock, and a bluetit.

Hartlepool Headland and South Gore are also top spots for migrant searching, and the Tees Marshes are renowned for wading birds and waterfowl, but the highlight for me was a visit to the bird observatory at Whitburn. It is made from re-inforced concrete with strong metal window grills, which fold down so that up to 16 people can sit on wooden seats, unleash their telescopes, or "scopes" to the aficionados, and gaze out to sea.

When I arrived at the observatory it seemed pretty full, as it already housed Walter, Brian and Pete, birdwatching and scribbling sightings in a logbook, but I was told that on one particular day in June, there had been 16 people inside the observatory and a further eight outside, enjoying the sea birds as they swooped and dived on the horizon. The logbook looked terrific, but as Ian said consolingly: "For successful sea watching, you have to have lots of experience and sharp eyesight - or a good imagination."

While at the observatory, I stumbled upon a birdwatching wrangle. According to Brian and Pete, author Simon Barnes is not really a birdwatcher. He writes for Bird magazines but some of his views are held to be controversial and are unwelcome in the birdwatching community. Brian clinched the matter by saying: "Simon is something of an intellectual, has an aloof look and wears the wrong sort of hat; not the sort that birders wear."

Birdwatching may, according to Simon Barnes, "bring moments of high drama and gratification and dangerous delight" but for credibility, make sure you wear the right hat.

* How To Be A Bad Birdwatcher by Simon Barnes (Short Books, £9.99)