Our attention has turned. The shorebirds have come and gone, and.....
wait for it...have come and gone again. The warblers threw a nasty
twist to the southbound migration. Our attentions turned to those LBJ's
(Little Brown Jobs or more commonly named- Sparrows). The denizins of
the fields. Now you see me; now you don't. One moment popping up to
the panicles of the grass then, no sooner, dissapearing into the entity
as one. All summer long, Savannah, Savannah. As a good friend of mine
once elucidated, while we were wandering through chest high clover, "I
have looked at thousands of Savannah's and.....oop.....while throwing
his bin's up to his eyes....thousands and one". As the seasons changed-
the Savannah's travelled on. The Song Sparrow numbers increased the
Golden-crowned Sparrows returned for our winter, along with the other
Zonotricia including the 1st basic White-crowned Sparrows. Our hopes
were high, as we spent hours and hours scouring the fields with our
anticiptions running rampant, watching for the return of the minion of
the masses.

Please note; at this point of the dissertation there has been no
referance to the diabolical thread that has taken up *way* *way* to much
space on this open unedited forum.

Then one day patience is rewarded. While you are standing in the low
valley of a tidal weed field, where all of the flowering plants have
gone to seed and where many of the seed pods have already clung to your
jeans, a darting bird catches your eye. Then, all of a sudden, this
gorgeous, frosty bird springs from the field to the nearest shrub,
staring back at you from its new-found perch. Soon returning to the
field, the bird continues to feed on the offerings of the fall crop.
With time and incredibly good looks you are soon able to ID this bird.
Rusty cap, white wing bars, rusty post ocular stripe, what would be a
clear breast if not for the smudge of dark on the upper part... American
Tree Sparrow! Our first.

You continue your journey through the field. Spotted Towhees,
Golden-crowned Sparrows, Lincoln Sparrows, another American Tree
Sparrow, Song Sparrows, Fox Sparrows clicking from the shrubs
surrounding the field.

Delighted with being rewarded for your patience, and having seen the
American Tree Sparrows, you head out of the field, back to the trail by
the beach; and for the *love of God*! two Snow Buntings call from
overhead and land smack dab in front of you on the bouldery beach where
the tide is beginning to recede.

Only this and nothing more.

Ken Klimko
Richmond, BC