It was just one of those days. I figured traffic on 95 would be better
yesterday than last weekend, and I'm sure it was. Big deal. It started
raining near Williamsburg. I got to Back Bay around 12:30 and saw Dorrie
et al coming in, and didn't think I could mooch any help off them. So I
tucked my bins into my rain jacket, the sole piece of clothing I had other
than what I was wearing, and set out. I lasted about an hour. No sign of
anything resembling a duck. For that matter, no sign of anything
resembling a pool, at least within a half mile of where I was. I thought
of David Hughes' valiant effort to find Buff-breasted Sandpipers last
year, on that very dike, when I learned that smart people take Advil
before they set out. No, I still don't qualify. I shed what clothes I
could and drove home wet. Dag, I love being a birder! Really!
Cheers,
John Fox
Arlington
PS My new motto for deciding whether to chase a bird: "just put it in gear
and follow the road that goes there"
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