American Avocet and Black-necked Stilt

I crept slowly and indirectly across the South Padre Island mudflats toward a small group of sleeping stilts and avocets, taking great care to avoid flushing them. As I approached, another man made much faster progress, taking great, splashing strides through the puddles, moving upright and straight toward the birds. I was irritated. This guy was going to scare away not only my stilts and avocets, but all the hundreds of nearby shorebirds that I had yet to check out. Then he abruptly stopped and pulled out binoculars. Could this be a fellow birder, being so reckless? As he struck up a conversation, I sheepishly noticed my hasty judgment. He was not inconsiderate; he was a local, and knew the avocets and stilts were tame enough to approach. He asked if we were looking for anything specific. Yes, in fact, gull-billed terns were on our list. “Not gonna find those here,” he replied. He then provided precise directions to the exact fishing spot where we were most likely to find our birds, which we definitely would have missed otherwise. What opportunities have I missed by not assuming positive intent from the start?