Lesser Getadamnfieldguide

It's 2021...a time unlike any other in recent history. Especially when we look at where we are in regards to technology being such a huge part of our everyday life. Cellphones with more tech in them than it took to put a man on the moon are everywhere. Technology has also brought social media into a vast number of homes, giving people tools to discover and learn a myriad of different things. 

Even birds.

That being said, is there really any learning going on? We can see the equation 2+2=4, but, have we truly learned anything unless we know WHY this is so? I don't mean to get philosophical here, but in my mind I'm hearing the analogy "Give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. Teach him to fish, you feed him for a lifetime." The number of birding websites and social media pages is mind boggling as every region, every state and even backyards have their own presence on the internet.  Most all purport themselves to be places to 'learn and share'. However, my experience is that there is not a lot of learning going on. 

The naturalist world, in particular birds has more than its fair share of conundrums and enigmas to ponder. Experience is often critical to coming up with an answer to these questions. The opposite end of that spectrum is simply 'spoon feeding' identifications through these sources. Especially some of the most common birds. Is that truly a learning experience?

In asking for identification on a bird in question, the next step in that parade (imho) should be 'What makes it a ______?' What unique characteristics separate American Goldfinch, Yellow Warbler and Evening Grosbeak? Or, perhaps the person identifying the bird should answer the question more completely. Not just typing in an obvious answer that does not go any further than a veiled "I know more than you". Trust me, it's just how it sounds. And, usually it sounds that way over and over and over again. One correct identification is enough...threads of hundreds of response all chiming in, somewhat feeling the need to be amongst those who know. The answer given is also soon forgotten. 

I feel very strongly that birding and other naturalist pursuits do not translate well to a world where even "Instant Gratification" is deemed too slow. Especially frustrating are the inquiries from supposedly intelligent people on social media to identify birds one would have thought most folks would know just by osmosis. 

I've not counted, but, I'd be willing to bet that most primary school reading books at some point introduce the 'Robin Red-Breast' or just 'Robin' to their young readers. The American Robin is pretty much the "See Dick Run" of birds.....pretty ubiquitous by any measure.

I guess it boils down to wanting to learn something new. Perhaps 2020 and the global pandemic would afford people the time to, I don't know, READ A BOOK? Run an online search for bird ID classes? Download a very easy and very free bird identification app from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology? Merlin allows you to upload a picture from your device, answer a few when and where questions and provides you with at least a few choices of what the bird is, if not the exact bird in question.

One of the leading binocular manufacturers now even have a device that you point at the bird and it will identify it for you! Swarovski Optik now makes something called the dG. It can interface with your smartphone and the Merlin app and identify your bird and even store an image of it for you.  Granted, they cost about the same as a mortgage payment, but, talk about instant gratification?  The fathers of modern ornithology are rolling over in their graves.

There was a time that you had to actually go out and LOOK for birds. Take a walk in the woods, along the shore; seek them out early in the morning. Mine them from the treetops like the feathered jewels they are. You had to want to go out and see birds beyond your backyard. You brought a pair of binoculars and something called a FIELD GUIDE. You'd see a bird and then quickly try and pin a name to it from the guide. It took a couple tries, but, you quickly learned to spend more time studying the bird before you started looking in the field guide. You know where the guides is, chances are when you look back up for the bird, it's gone with the next breeze.

Now, that does not mean field guides and binoculars are obsolete. Today's optics for bird watching are remarkable bright, colorful and sharp. The current crop of field guides are a skillful blend of artistic mastery and scientific acumen. This is HOW and WHERE you find out why a certain bird is that bird and a bit of it's natural history and territory. Authors like Kenn Kaufman, David Sibley and Richard Crossley have given us the keys to the world of birds around us.

Last, but by no means least, there is something called the joy of discovery. Something no website, technological marvel or social media page can provide. The thrill of figuring out for yourself, understanding what led you to that conclusion and having forever the process that got you there. Let's face it, if you can can tell the difference between a crow and a duck you're well on your way to being able to identify the birds you encounter.

So, the next time an exciting new bird shows up in your yard or while you're walking the dog, try figuring it out on your own before you post it it to some group on Facebook, where 218 people will give you a "like", give you the answer over and over again and third of them will disagree. Pick up a book, hell, search the image yourself, and when you identify it, know why you got that answer. It's called learning, something that seems to gone out of vogue all in the name of convenience, instant gratification or dare I say......laziness?

 

 

In Search of Ralph

It’s an early spring day, mid April, tax time is what most people think of. Me, I think of the waves of birds heading my way right now from points south of here. “Neo-Tropical Migrants” the scientists call them. Birds who spend their winters in Central and South America and do their breeding here in North America. One of my favorites of this group and also, usually, one of the earliest to arrive is the Gray Catbird.  Now for those of you unfamiliar with Catbirds, they are not brightly plumed that grants birds like Orioles and Tanagers such affection. They are not even terribly original songsters, being a member of the Mimic Thrush family, relegated to repeating sounds they hear over and over again, with nary an original note. No, Catbirds hold a special place in my heart for a very special reason.

Many years ago, when I first opened the Wild Bird Center, I knew that inevitably, one warm day, when I had the door open, a bird was going to fly in. Now being in a shopping center, where the standard avian population is 99.9% Pigeon and House Sparrow, this is who I was expecting. It goes without saying that I was wrong. And, yes, the first bird through the door was a Catbird. He dutifully made the rounds landing on most every horizontal perch, bounced off the occasional wall and even left a berry stained brand on one wall to mark his visit. Then quick as he came, he was gone. No help from me, just headed straight back to the open door and was gone. Since that day, Catbirds have kind of been my Guardian Angels in the day to day life of my birding. On birdwalks during the spring the first bird sighted as we get out of the cars is a Catbird. He seems to follow us as we traverse the trails in search of other birds. Teasing with his flash of feathers and then disappearing into the brush, as we gather around the spot hoping to find some Warbler or Vireo. After his sense of humor is satisfied, he would pop up and all but stick his tongue out at us. The Catbirds have become such regulars, he even has a name. “Ralph, the Obligatory Birdwalk Catbird” or just plain Ralph. He has become the parrot on the shoulder of this binocular toting birding pirate. The Dr. Watson to my Sherlock Holmes. He fits with me like a good pair of hiking boots. Ralph is a part of my birding history.

And that’s why today I have thought of him. It’s mid April. It’s spring. The Goldfinch are turning bright yellow. The Robins are chasing each other around like a dog chasing his tail. Yellow-rumped warblers are turning up and the Carolina Wrens have built nests in most every nook and cranny you can imagine. Yes, it’s spring. But, no Ralph. One or two reports on the local bird sighting reports, but, not omnipresent as I have come to expect. I have had Catbirds raise their families in my yard, eat every bit of grape jelly I put out in hopes of coaxing an Oriole to come visit. Yet, so far this spring that call that I have grown so fond of has yet to grace my ears. I find myself listening harder, looking more intently, scrutinizing every shape and sound in hopes of finding Ralph. The days that have gone by eerily remind of Rachel Carson’s “Silent Spring”, so quiet have the migrants, the real migrants, been so far this year. The good news is the House Wrens are back, bad news is the Chickadees didn’t get a brood in before these housing-hogging creatures arrived. The Flickers are in fine voice, their repetitious call of mating echoes through the woods around my house. Yet, still no Ralph. Still no Catbirds.  Their arrival in my yard is late, so say my notes from last year. Pushing 10 days late now. I’m worried. For no matter how many singing Yellow Throated Warblers I see, regardless of the number of nestlings I wind up either replacing in their nests or rushing to the local rehabilitator, it’s not spring without the Catbirds in my yard. Although, a very handsome Chipping Sparrow has just landed inches from my feet, I take him as a herald…letting me know that migration is moving, and that Ralph’s arrival in my yard this spring is only days away. I know this in my mind, I am a student of the avian world. But without Catbirds, spring is still in the offing.

Postscript: The Catbirds have arrived, their raucous calling and incessant mewing have served to let me know, unequivocally that they have here. Grape jelly is being consumed in alarming quantities and oranges are being hollowed out consistently. And, in my eyes, spring has finally sprung, and things are the way they ought to be. Welcome, Ralph, it’s good to see you again.

Great Gear to Get: JETBOIL SUMO

   The world of the "camp stove" has evolved from cooking over an open fire to stoves that can now charge your electronic devices. We've used every fuel imaginable and pumped pressure into reservoirs until our arms fell off. We've had to use windscreens, and we have forgotten windscreens only to have our efforts to even have a cup of coffee foiled just when you need it most.
   However, I think those days are over, especially for me with my penchant for camping out of a kayak. Enter into my world the JetBoil line of stoves. Small, self contained, no fuel to spill and will heat a quart of water to full rolling boil before you can get your smartphone stop watch initialized.

First, let me say that I will be talking about the SUMO size of the JetBoil. Yet, despite it's name, denoting size and girth, still fits in a small dry bag along with a couple fuel canisters. Now, one of the initial "push backs" I got on this system is the empty canisters that one will have to pack out during your trip. Being a firm believer of "Leave no trace", I have no problem packing out what I carry in. In fact I think it's the only way one should camp. It helps you keep your outfitting efficient and keeps the camp site pristine for the next camper. The Sumo comes equipped with a large main 'pot', 3 cups/bowls, fuel mounting system with integrated sparking unit and flame control, folding stability legs to go on the fuel can that attaches to the base and lids for everything.

As I said earlier, everything fits easily into a small dry bag, making transport a breeze and leaving you plenty of room for the rest of your gear. Which if you are counting on your kayak to carry everything, every inch counts.
The construction is robust, I have no fears of anything breaking in transit and set up is simple and fast. Once assembled you are literally a couple of minutes from a steaming cup of a hot beverage, which can be a huge boost when paddling in less than balmy conditions. And, JetBoil fuel is available in a 'four seasons mix', making it even more ideal for year 'round excursions.

One of the things I like best about the Sumo is the fact that you have enough bowls/cups for not only yourself but another camper. Meaning, quite simply MORE ROOM in another boat for more food, water, gear, whatever will make your trip more enjoyable. For those of you who do camp out of kayaks you are well aware of how every inch is precious and can make the difference between bringing something and leaving it in the car.

Everything you see to the right came out of that one small dry bag. The parts stayed cool, the contents of the large pot stayed hot making it the ideal vessel for a one pot meal, soup, chili and the like. The JetBoil system has accessories enough to satisfy the most hardcore gear junkie (like me) including a "Crunch it" key to make the empty fuel canisters recyclable! A major plus for me...it makes the fact there is no fuel to spill and even bigger plus for the JetBoil.

I have used a lot of different camp stoves in my life, from single burner multi-fuel models to large table top models for 'car camping' and by far and away the JetBoil is the most efficient, most compact and easy to use and transport cooking system I've encountered. I have had no difficulty finding an ample supply of the fuel and do plan ahead so I know I have enough for my trip then some. So, if you like your camp cooking as easy as it can get, I heartily recommend the JetBoil, especially for paddling. I am still wowed by how small it all packs down! Thank you, JetBoil!

Eagles and Owls and Orioles, OH MY!

  

 Literally in the shadows of one of this country's largest cities lies it's last marshland. The John Heinz National Wildlife Refuge at Tinicum is wedged between the city and it's airport. It is an important migratory stop over for birds as well as precious breeding grounds. Right now, the refuge is not only hosting Bald Eagles (today I saw an immature one up close.....crippling good look at my friends across the pond would say, but nest Great Horned Owl. Quite a few people got terrific views of the branched owlet just posing for the birders
who were there. I set up my scope and let passers by take a gander at what may have been there first look at a Great Horned Owl.

   Birding is one of the things I have always defined myself by. Yet it has somehow gotten away from me. A lot of  it has to do with the fact that for over a decade it REALLY defined me. I was "the bird man". I owned a backyard bird feeding shop, led bird walks from the store, volunteered for Audubon, wrote a couple books, a couple national articles, taught school classes and scout troops. Even entered three World Series of Birding and the team accounted itself well. All my friends were birders and/or naturalists of some kind, and I felt as if I had found my niche in the world. Turns out I was a pretty good birder and taught about it pretty well, too. Then, I was hit by a perfect storm. In a span of a few months, the Black Oil Sunflower seed crop in this country failed and a Wal-Mart (read Death Star) opened up about a mile away. It didn't take long for rising seed costs and what I considered unfair competition to derail 10 years of dedication and hard work. There are other subsequent chapters to that tale that I will spare you....needless to say "catching on" in the bird world was not an easy thing to do, nor an easy way to make a living.

   Since then, my birding has been sporadic, still doing it, but, not every free moment. I took up kayaking, which rapidly became another passion of mine. I also found that I could combine the two and see some birds normally seen at the limit of conjecture up close and personal. I drifted more and more towards paddling, as birding was tied to such a sense of loss. When I had to close my store, I literally had to take a hammer and destroy all that I had built and throw it in a dumpster. Take that, psyche.

   So, with that in mind, you may understand why I don't jump in the car and just go bird as much. Sometimes it just gets the better of me. But, not today. I had been fighting a sore throat/cold for the past week, and it's a 3 day weekend with flawless weather. I was up early enough to get out and see what I could find, so, off I went in search of a game of feathered Hide and Seek. I had not gone 10 yards past the entrance gate when perched in the top of a willow was a male Baltimore Oriole in all his fluorescent orange. Let me digress a moment about Baltimore Orioles (and some of their cousins, too)......How does this bird HIDE? You hear their crystal clear, loud whistle and you scour the tree tops for a hint of orange. But more times than not, all you get is that whistle that can be heard for what seems like miles. And, yes he really is THAT orange. And, he's not a small bird by any stretch of the imagination. Orioles are about the size of an American Robin, and is actually a member of the Blackbird family. But, when you get your binoculars (or if your really luck, your scope) on this bird, no one can help but gasp a bit. I have seen many, many Baltimore Orioles, but, I never tire of watching them.

   I've stopped "listing" the birds I see on walks as it seemed to get redundant after a while. Todays feathered findings were lots of Yellow Warblers, Tree Swallows by the score, Barn Swallows, Gray Catbirds, American Robins, Orchard Oriole (a less spectacularly orange cousin of the Baltimore), Blue Gray Gnatcatcher, Willow Flycatcher, Green Heron, Great Blue Heron, Great Egrets (in their breeding finery), Marsh Wren, Carolina Wren, Mallards, Song Sparrow, Carolina Chickadee along with the Bald Eagle, Great Horned Owl and Baltimore Oriole. I'm sure I'm leaving some out, but, it was nice to walk the circuit at Tinicum again.

   On the topic of Tinicum, as I stated earlier it is a National Wildlife Refuge with city limits of Philadelphia. There is no entrance fee as there is at NWR's like Bombay Hook or Forsythe, which means it's free to the public. Now this may sound like a good thing. Free usually is. But, sadly, not in this case. The refuge is open to fishing (why anyone would fish Darby Creek is beyond me), mountain bikers and people with their pets. This refuge has also suffered myriad indignations such as massive oil spills underneath it, airport expansion (which, in fairness, was replaced by another tract of the refuge) and the never ending noise pollution created by the airport, I-95 and an occasional freight train. Doesn't sound like much of a refuge does it? The way I read the term "Wildlife Refuge", I see that it means a refuge for wildlife. Not a public dog walk (by the way, I love dogs, have two....just don't bring them to the refuge), not a bicycle trail, I've almost been run over several times by careening bikes. And, last I checked, 'harvesting' the wildlife (fish) isn't offering them refuge, even if it's catch and release. Today I had the unfortunate circumstance to come across a couple with two small dogs that were completely out of control. Barking uncontrollably and acting aggressive to anyone who dared walk by. And, me being me, had to say something about them scaring every bird for hundreds of yards scurrying for cover, where the owner decided I was wrong to say anything about his out of control "dogs". Turns out he was as aggressive and out of control as the dogs. I was subjected a barrage of expletives that was just plain foul. I don't take that kind of verbal abuse well and it took an awful lot of self control from throwing all of them into the water and letting the Snapping Turtles have at them. I'm sorry if people don't like being called on being selfish and rude, but, how about a little personal responsibility??? Myself? I'd like JHNWR@T become a REAL National Wildlife Refuge, I'd happily pay the admission and have them ban the pets, the fishing and the bikes. Also, isn't there the possibility that domestic animals may bring disease into the refuge that the residents are vulnerable to?

A wildlife refuge is for the wildlife, this refuge has suffered enough in my eyes, it is time to treat it like a real NWR and not a city park.

Elk River/Chesapeake Bay via Rogue's Harbor

 

   It was one of those beautiful days that beckons paddlers to the water, the siren cry can be heard from hundreds of miles away. One of those days that it doesn't matter how far you have to go to get into "The Wet".  It's time to 'boat up' and get paddling. Mind you, I've been a few times this year, since things finally thawed after the winter that wouldn't end, but, I wanted to go someplace that I hadn't been a hundred times, so, with 'Scott' on 'Penny', I headed for Elk's Neck State Park in Maryland, and very nice put in at Rogue's Harbor at the end of the Elk River and leads right into Chesapeake Bay. Along the way, at the tip of the headland that divides the Elk from the Chesapeake is Turkey Point and it's famous lighthouse.

   The only "hassle" of launching from Rogue's Harbor is that the ramps are usually tied up by power boats, meaning paddlers need to launch from the adjacent beach. All well and good, right? Well, yeah, but, it's over a hill and a sidewalk that leads down to the dock. A mere 50 yards away, but, with a fully loaded kayak on your shoulder, it can feel like 5 miles! If you have a kayak trolley (wheels) to move your kayak over land, BRING IT! It will make your life infinitely easier, even if you have to take it back to your car once your on the beach.

   I pushed out off the beach and was immediately surprised at just how still the water was. I had put in from this spot before and negotiated the current coming down the river, spilling out into the bay. Riding the slight bumps as I moved closer to the tip of the headland, and the swells in the Chesapeake. This was not one of those days. The water was smooth as glass with barely a ripple that was not made by my kayak.

   I proceeded down towards Turkey Point, angling out away from the coastline in order to make sure I could see the lighthouse. Too close to shore and you will not be at a proper angle to see it, as it is set back of the rapidly eroding point. We had flooding wind and rain just a couple days prior and the effect was noticeable. The dirt cliffs facing the bay were freshly washed and there was driftwood everywhere, as if a tree had exploded over the water. I found myself steering around some of the larger pieces, while the smaller ones just bobbed up and down. Good thing they were around, or I would have been the only thing breaking the surface tension of the water. The bay was empty, I was alone and found myself soaking in the solitude and the sounds of the birds around me including a small group of Least Terns,

who had decided that the buoys along the way were good resting spots, their yellow beaks glowing in the sunshine. I enjoyed seeing them and watching their aerobatics punctuated by their head long crashes into the water and coming up with a small fish. It has long amazed me how so many of the sea-going birds can plummet at full speed into the water, grab a fish and come up again none the worse for wear. The larger the bird the more impressive the splash and the outcome as well.
   I was thoroughly enjoying my paddle, the solitude, the water, my kayak and the occasional avian companion when one of the banes of my life now, and my paddling decided to rear it's ugly head. I get uncontrollable (and so far, undiagnosable) severe muscle cramps. Sometimes in my hands, which one doctor said was a form of 'Writer's Cramp' because my hands distort painfully when it hits. It can also hit in my legs, thighs and/or calves and wherever it occurs, it is really painful. I had planned on

paddling around Turkey Point and up to the beach on the bayside, having some lunch and paddling back. The cramp in my hand subsided, so I pushed on a bit further. But, then it started in my right leg! Discretion being the better part of valor, and the fact that I was paddling solo, I decided to turn around and take a leisurely paddle back to Rogue's Harbor. I've gotten pretty good at sucking up the cramps and just taking my time, so, I continued to enjoy the beauty of the day and the water as I headed back to the put in.
   I've been told time and again that I am "pushing my luck" paddling alone with the muscle spasms....heck, paddling alone itself. But, I belong in my kayak.....I belong on the water. I take every precaution I can. Spot Personal tracker with emergency service, VHF radio, cell phone in dry bag, a chart so I know where I can take out in an emergency. I am not going to stop paddling.....I will not go quietly into that good night. All in all, it was a beautiful day and wonderful way to spend it.

Zen and the Art of Birdwatching

After many years of attempting to watch birds, sometimes succeeding, often times not, I began to notice patterns. Things that happened time and time again. I had always considered my passion for birds the true path to enlightenment, and then one fine day at Cape May, I believe I achieved it. Things came into focus and I understood that all parts of birding are intertwined, the successes and the failures, the joys and frustrations. It was with this in mind, and the desire to help fellow birders on their journey to enlightenment, that I present the following words of wisdom.

1) The greatest bird repellant in the world is a pair of binoculars.

Just try walking out of the house one day without them and count the number of times you really wanted them. But, the minute you hang them around your neck, there is not a feather in sight!

2) Birds recognize the sound of a spotting scope being set up. I also believe that they all can count to three. A beautiful bird will be sitting there, posing for you, and you try everything possible to get your scope set up quickly and quietly. But, the minute that third tripod leg hits the ground…POOF! It’s off with the next breeze.

   3 )Birds love to play hide and seek. Who hasn’t been out on a walk, heard a bird, found the movement in the tree, gotten their binoculars on it quickly, only to find just a tail feather or beak sticking out from behind a leaf. Red-Eyed Vireos are the all time champs at hide-and-seek. I even think their call sounds like “see me…here I am..nope…not there….here I am…over here….” This also has to do with why all the really colorful warblers leave the area when the leaves come down. The game is over for another season.

   4) Pishing really doesn’t work. Many of you have been on bird walks and heard leaders attempt to “pish” up some birds. Well, they’re really not attracting them. The birds just like to come up and see the funny faces people make while pishing.

5) Birds watch us as much as we watch them. I am constantly amazed at how close birds come to people out on walks. I really believe that Chickadees, Titmice, Nuthatches and Kinglets have formed a National Birder-Watching Society. They probably keep life lists and get extra points for up close and personal identification.

    6) There are four necessities to successful bird watching. One is a sense of wonder and curiosity. You must want to go out and look for the birds. The second is a good pair of binoculars. Binoculars are the tool of the trade. I always empathize with people who attempt to bird watch with binoculars that just don’t fit, or aren’t geared toward birding. The third is a good field guide, one for our area that you have taken the time to familiarize yourself with. One that employs paintings instead of photographs. The fourth is a “bird buddy,” someone with whom to share the elation the hobby brings. Birding is certainly something you can do on your own, but, as with most good things in life, is better when shared.

     7) Birders are a community unto themselves, where the only prerequisite is shared interest. We all are constantly learning and teaching. Even novice birders comment on how helpful other birders are and how knowledge and information are so freely and gladly shared.

     8) Birders are a breed apart. Who else would be standing on a wind blown beach, at 6:30 a.m., half-freezing to death with binoculars and scopes trained on the horizon trying to decide whether the birds hundreds of yards out to sea are black or surf scoters?

   9) The amount and variety of birds seen is equal to or greater than the amount of time spent looking. Face it, the longer you look, the more you’ll see. But, it’s not quite that simple. I believe that the longer you’re looking, the better you’re looking. You become more attuned to your surroundings and notice more birds.

    10)  Last, but not least, birds can’t read. No matter how many field guides and behavior guides you commit to memory, there is a bird out there prepared to make a fool of you. Birds that aren’t supposed to be in one place invariably are. Birds that shouldn’t be doing that, do. Basically, birds are wild animals and do what they want when they want. Learn to live with it. Or to borrow a line from that previous list, if the birds disagree with the books, BELIEVE THE BIRDS.

I’ve got a secret

Walking around my yard this afternoon, I looked up. Well, that’s what people who look at birds do. Scan the sky and the treetops and see what is around. I catch a dark form sky surfing through the Cirrus clouds, one that my experience and lots of trial and error (mostly error) allows me to pin the title accipter to. Lifting my binoculars to my eyes (yes I had them with me, as I do all the time. Doesn’t everyone?) I see the almost headless form of a bird of prey most commonly called a Sharp Shinned Hawk. “Sharpies” are the birds of prey most backyard bird feeders encounter, especially as the weather turns cooler. You see, accipters by trade are songbird hunters. Their shorter rounder wings and long rudder like tail allow them to chase and catch songbirds.  And they do so with great success, as the species survival attests. This particular Sharp Shinned Hawk was not on the hunt however; the Chickadees and Titmice in the yard were busy scurrying around going about the business of being Chickadees and Titmice. No, this hawk was just out for an early winter’s fly. Soaring on thermals and banking with the wind. In fact, he looked like he was having fun.

As I watched this hawk, I wondered, does anyone else see this bird? Is anyone else sharing this moment with me? Or is this just a moment for the Sharpie and I?  A command performance? I think not….Sharpies are not the kind of bird you command around. A private moment? I believe so….I was not standing on a ridge or hawk watch platform amidst a cadre of other birders during peak migration. Just a wonderful Sharp Shinned Hawk and I, watching his effortless circling. Now, I know that the Sharpie couldn’t know I was there, and if it did, couldn’t care less. But, at that moment, that snap shot in my memory, I was privy to something special.  I found myself guarding it jealously. Savoring each moment of observation, watching so intently I can see the hawk shrug his shoulders and bank steeply left. I didn’t want anyone else to be seeing this. I wanted this to be my moment. Mine and the high flying Sharp Shinned Hawk enjoying his winter constitutional. I must have watched this bird for ten minutes.  I could swear he was showing off. Every now and then the Sharpie would put on a burst of speed, the kind of acceleration that closes the gap between predator and prey and insures one’s survival and one’s demise.  The slow long turns accentuated by quick changes in direction. It is no wonder that we humans, helplessly tethered to the ground, have long admired and often times worshiped birds of prey. Such mastery of the sky is something to be admired and respected. As I watched this hawk, I thought about the literally thousands of Sharp Shinned Hawks I have seen over the years. And, you know what, I was still in just as much awe, was just as excited and enjoyed this particular Sharpie as much as any of them. If not perhaps more. This was just a special treat. One that I was lucky enough to see because I looked up. Just glancing around the skies, taking an avian inventory as it were.  Jealously guarding my secret, reveling in the fact that, in my mind, I was the only one who saw this and it made me smile.