“Twitcher” is a slang term for a bird watcher – something I only discovered, serendipitously, straight after I’d finished the story under a different title.
“Lester turned the focus dial the barest fraction, looked wistfully at the nest one last time and lay the binoculars down. The Plummers would wait. They’d have to. The parents were healthy, the eggs
undamaged. They had plenty of food nearby, and that was more than he could say himself. They could manage on their own for a few hours.
No one knew they were there; he hadn’t told, not Margie, not anyone.
It was him and them and God, no other players at this table. So they could get by for a few hours while he sorted himself out with the few things he’d need to last the crucial coming days.”