Tweets:

Clarice and I may flitter all over the world looking for birds, but
sometimes seem to miss out on the local interest stuff. Such has
been the case with redpolls. Seems everyone else out there is
seeing them. We dutifully looked at flocks of siskins on Spencer
Island, at the Skagit wildlife area, at our house and all around. We
would go bonkers glassing every little finchey thing hanging from
and alder cone, to no avail. But, not to give up, day before yesterday
found us once again heading for Spencer Island with red tops in
mind.

We were listening to an audio tape of the late Douglas Adams'
book, "The Long Dark Tea Time of the Soul", when we pulled into
the parking lot at the treatment plant. Kate had just awakened from
dreaming of penguins, to find herself in a hospital room with an
apparently (but not really) dead Norwegian, a Coke machine, and an
Eagle, when I cut the saga by turning off the ignition. We packed
up our scope and bins, donned layers of nylon fleece, and decided
against hauling out that big book by Sibley.

We left the car and started out on the right (south) side of the gravel
road heading for Spencer and stopped after about two steps, when
we noticed that a small bird was walking along the north side of the
road, also toward Spencer, about five feet away.

"That's a redpoll" I said, with authority. Clarice, who had never seen
one, said "I know. Do we get to go home now?" We stopped while
our little fluffball beaked around in the gravel, paying us no mind. If
Douglas Adams had written this scene, I suppose the little creature
would have addressed us thus:

"You know its not polite to stare. You humans have been spying on
us visitors ever since we got here, hardly ever giving us a rest. Gets
on your nerves. Now, don't keep talking like you think I'm behaving
oddly; think of what you birders look like to me. Thank you, but I will
just continue doing what I'm doing, rummaging around in this loose
gravel until I please myself enough to stop. No matter how hard you
look, nor how close you come, I will not be perturbed nor will you
figure out what I am nosing about for. Yes, I do have a perfectly
yellow beak, that dark stuff is just because this gravel is so filthy.
Can't hardly find good gravel any more.

You there, go ahead and go back to your car and get that big book
of yours. You will find my likeness on page 532. You have my
permission to stand right beside me and compare me to your little
pictures. You can come away smugly declaring me to be an adult
female common-- no fraternizing with those horrid hoaries for me,
but even though I will let you get within a foot you will never really
know because I will not sit in your hand for any closer look, even if
you sprinkle those cracker crumbs in front of me like you're doing. If
you wouldn't eat them for lunch, why do you think I would? Now,
would you mind moving your foot, I want to sift through that gravel
you're standing on."

Of course, Adams didn't write this scene so the conversation never
took place, I don't think. But then three hunters arrived, laden down
with their guns and camo and bags of plastic and once living ducks,
and accompanied by a wet, tired, happy, and unusually calm
Labrador retriever.

Our conversation went like this: "Thats the bird all the birders are
looking for." "They fly down from Alaska, like these ducks?" "Sure is
tame." "Doesn't want to fly, I guess."

The redpoll addressed the dog: "You wet brute. I suppose you get
your jollies jumping in that cold water just because those humans
make loud noises with their guns. Complete waste of time to me."
Whereupon the dog replied: "Just who do you think you are. I
happen to enjoy biting into ducks. I've a mind to demonstrate on you
what I like to do to tennis balls. Besides, why are you behaving so
strange; don't you know you are supposed to fly away?"

The redpoll replied: "When you practically step on me like that I do
fly, into the grass. I come back right away because I've got my own
business to attend to in this gravel. And as to your 'besides', who do
you think is behaving strange. I'm the one that seems to know what
he's doing. Now I have five humans and a dog all watching me at
the same time, and none of you have a clue."

We didn't. So we all left.Jerry Broadus, PLS
Geometrix Surveying, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Puyallup, WA. 98371