I wish I knew why I like bird-watching. When I step back and
think about it, it has to be the most boring activity imaginable. Looking at
birds… how idiotic. And what’s worse; I've seen almost all the species I’m
going to ever see, at least as far as my home turf is concerned. I guess about
once a year I’ll see someone new. He’ll likely be some feathered guy intending to migrate through Pennsylvania or Ohio but thrown off course by a storm or something.
Last year I saw a summer tanager. They usually do not make it this far north,
but there one was; sitting on a tree branch in a woodlot. It isn’t entirely
impossible that global warming is at least part of the reason for his being in
the area. Climate change has done some peculiar things to nature, after all.
Anyway, the bird-watching season has officially begun, at
least for me. I decided to forsake the Bruins game and instead go out with my
binoculars hoping to see at least one migrated new arrival. I saw nothing
spectacular but I could have sworn I heard the call of the bobwhite. I just can’t
believe one would be around this early in the spring, let alone calling. But
they do have a distinctive call. I chalked it up as a “maybe”.
I did see a possum rooting around in the underbrush. It is
one of the uglier animals found in the wild in this area. For my money there is
one animal that is more unsightly; the star-nosed mole. Yikes. Fortunately I've seen only one or two of them.
I noticed that the Bruins won without my help. It's almost enough to make me think that my occasional shouts at the TV during games are non-factors.
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