The Day Nothing Happened
Did I go birding yesterday?
I can't really remember. The memory seems kind of like a movie my brothers once talked about making, one in which there would be a soundtrack, setting, actors, etc., but nothing would ever really happen. The scenes would include a guy eating oatmeal and a bus stopping at a railroad crossing--stuff like that.
To return to yesterday, there were seven--yes, seven--of us there. I claimed the distinction of second-most-experienced birder in the group. DOOM.
We drove around quite a bit that day. We got to the lake and saw coots, cormorants, grackles and starlings. For those of us who have often seen them, it was a new exercise to observe and describe the important details of these specimens. The guru even gave me such an assignment, on which I think I did about B-minus work. Why must I forget that Snowy Egrets have dark bills?
We had given our optics to the new eyes, so that he was without them completely and I had some that were hardly worth using. This made it frustrating to chase a Common Yellowthroat down the waterside and then not see it in all its glory. But there were moments of epiphany in the novices that made it all worth it; with application, they could eventually become gurus themselves.
The best vista was from a pier, where the guru spotted and pointed out Northern Shovelers, Ruddy Ducks, and distant American White Pelicans. This time, they were clearly discernible from whatever rubbish floated in the water.
Our second location, a well-manicured path through a wood, was beautifully clothed in fall colors. It was barren, however, of the besought fauna. We saw one kinglet and heard a chickadee and a crow. Other than that, only the low creek attracted particular attention from one of our members. I had been self-christened"Catalynn" earlier because of my recurring exhortations of "Let's go!" I did it again here and spoke for the stomachs of the group: "Let's get something to eat."
Within minutes we were headed for one last confusing drive through the metroplex. Street signs and traffic actively interposed themselves between us and our fajitas. But we finally vinimos, vimos and victorimos the beautiful Mexican meat delights.
But nothing could keep us from the delights of life-bird rewards at Dairy Queen. And we all made it out with little to no ice cream on our clothes.
Some posts feel drug-induced. It's strange, because I sure haven't taken anything today.
I can't really remember. The memory seems kind of like a movie my brothers once talked about making, one in which there would be a soundtrack, setting, actors, etc., but nothing would ever really happen. The scenes would include a guy eating oatmeal and a bus stopping at a railroad crossing--stuff like that.
To return to yesterday, there were seven--yes, seven--of us there. I claimed the distinction of second-most-experienced birder in the group. DOOM.
We drove around quite a bit that day. We got to the lake and saw coots, cormorants, grackles and starlings. For those of us who have often seen them, it was a new exercise to observe and describe the important details of these specimens. The guru even gave me such an assignment, on which I think I did about B-minus work. Why must I forget that Snowy Egrets have dark bills?
We had given our optics to the new eyes, so that he was without them completely and I had some that were hardly worth using. This made it frustrating to chase a Common Yellowthroat down the waterside and then not see it in all its glory. But there were moments of epiphany in the novices that made it all worth it; with application, they could eventually become gurus themselves.
The best vista was from a pier, where the guru spotted and pointed out Northern Shovelers, Ruddy Ducks, and distant American White Pelicans. This time, they were clearly discernible from whatever rubbish floated in the water.
Our second location, a well-manicured path through a wood, was beautifully clothed in fall colors. It was barren, however, of the besought fauna. We saw one kinglet and heard a chickadee and a crow. Other than that, only the low creek attracted particular attention from one of our members. I had been self-christened"Catalynn" earlier because of my recurring exhortations of "Let's go!" I did it again here and spoke for the stomachs of the group: "Let's get something to eat."
Within minutes we were headed for one last confusing drive through the metroplex. Street signs and traffic actively interposed themselves between us and our fajitas. But we finally vinimos, vimos and victorimos the beautiful Mexican meat delights.
But nothing could keep us from the delights of life-bird rewards at Dairy Queen. And we all made it out with little to no ice cream on our clothes.
Some posts feel drug-induced. It's strange, because I sure haven't taken anything today.
1 Comments:
Oh, no! Stuff HAPPENS in ND! : )
You're doing so well.
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