When my brothers and I were little, my dad was a bit of a birder, and I think he still is now, but to a lesser extent. I don’t think he was ever a rabid birder exactly, but he did own a well-used copy of “A Field Guide to Birds”.
To my brothers and I, it was The Bird Book. Any time he spotted an unusual bird, out would come The Bird Book to the sound of collective groans. We’d spend the next fifteen minutes or so flipping through the pages of feathery mug shots, trying to find a positive match. And then when he found it, he’d give a gleeful chortle and announce it’s name to anyone within hearing range. “Ho-ho! It’s a bufflehead.” The book would then be left open on that page for everyone’s reference.
It was a good experience for a kid, though only some of it stuck with me. I can still identify coots, loons, and various ducks and geese, but others escape me. For example, there’s a big black sea bird that’s not uncommon along the coast here. Eats fish. Does a lot of standing around and diving. Very impressive. I couldn’t for the life of me remember what it was called.
My cubicle neighbour is a birder, and after I described it (inaccurately), she pulled out her own Bird Book. The moment I saw a painting of it on the flyleaf, the name popped into my head: cormorant.
So the constant exposure to The Bird Book did train me to identify birds, but apparently I can only identify paintings of birds.