Hey tweets, I was moved today at the Fill to think about philosophy, at
least, philosophy insofar as it has to do with traditional wisdom.
Specifically, I considered the meaning and importance of aphorisms. For
example, we say, "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." I recalled
this saying as I was sitting on my little camp stool next to the main pond,
trying my best to identify the billion little warblers that were flitting
among the twigs and leaves of the bushes. Each warbler seemed to think that
if it exposed itself for a nanosecond, that was plenty of time for me to see
it and identify it; else it would make very sure that the next time it
brought itself to my notice, it would hide behind a leaf or a branch or
another bird or something so that all I could see would be the tiniest bit
of beak sticking out. I quickly became so frustrated that I found myself
sympathizing with whoever came up with that idiotic saying I mentioned about
birds, hands and bushes. But then I stopped to think: no, a bird in the hand
is not worth two in the bush, no matter how much I ached to see their
blessed little bodies. It used to be that ornithologists would identify a
bird in the hand, meaning they had just shot the poor thing and could
examine it at leisure. That's why Audubon's bird portraits always look to me
so sinuously unrealistic. He was painting from what people in those days
called life, but really it was dead birds. It took Roger Tory Peterson to
change birding forever by proving that an observer really could identify
birds in the wild from the merest glimpse, even sometimes on the wing.
Clearly, then, because of Peterson, we have to say now that a bird in the
hand doesn't even come close to being worth two in the bush (although I have
to confess that I sometimes envy bird-banders, who get to hold all kinds of
really cool birds). But in the main, bush birds (i.e., birds free and
untrammeled in the wild) trump everything for me.

That thought led me to consider other sayings about birds, to wit:
The early bird gets the worm. Being early doesn't have much to do with
getting worms, does it? We now know, for example, that robins don't hunt
according to the clock, nor do they listen for worms. They take a hop and
look; take a hop and look; then they pounce. Perhaps it would be more
accurate to say that the patient but well-equipped with fast-twitch muscles
robin gets the worm.

A bird is known by his feathers. Definitely not. Anyone who has tried to
study empidonax flycatchers knows how far off-base this saying is!

A chattering bird builds no nest. Once again, all you have to do with this
aphorism is spend a day at a seabird nesting site. Silence to these birds is
not a value; not even in the picture.

Birds in their little nests agree. Yeah, tell that to the last-hatched egret
in a nest.

Birds of a feather flock together. What about mixed flocks? We know they are
common, maybe much more common than single-species flocks, even in
migration.

As I sat thinking about this last proverb, I realized that something was
happening out on the Fill. Hordes of people, all dressed in purple, were
pouring down Wahkiakum Trail, heading for Husky Stadium. Yes, I had hit
another football Saturday. Fans were migrating to the stadium in clumps, all
chattering about how much fun they were going to have, and all agreeing that
watching football was the best recreation in the world.

Then it dawned on me: all those bird sayings aren't about birds. They're
about people. Everything checked out - the feathers, the flocking, the
chattering, the agreeing, the early comers eating their hotdogs at the
tailgate parties, the smug ticket-holders as opposed to the forlorn fans
hoping someone had extra tickets for those who had neglected to plan ahead.

Thus, to be fair and accurate, rather than transfer our faults to innocent
birds, we should be honest and change our sayings:

A fan is known by his numerous insignia and logos.
A chattering fan builds nada, except maybe team spirit, and then only if the
team is winning.
Fans in their little seats agree.
Fans of a feather flock together.

It all fits. And maybe because it fits so well, it explains why there were
70,000 people all hurrying to the stadium to watch 22 meaty guys bash into
each other, and one little ol' birder sitting on a camp stool trying to
identify some true wonders of nature. At any rate, here's what I found at
the Fill today, apart from the fans:

pied-billed grebe
double-crested cormorant
great blue heron
green heron
Canada goose
mallard
gadwall
northern shoveler
green-winged teal
American wigeon
ring-necked duck
lesser scaup
American coot
killdeer
red-tailed hawk
merlin
(note: saw Cooper's hawk and northern harrier yesterday but didn't write a
report)
ring-necked pheasant
rock dove
Anna's hummingbird
belted kingfisher
northern flicker (red)
downy woodpecker
Steller's jay
American crow
black-capped chickadee
Bewick's wren
American robin
American pipit
European starling
yellow-rumped warbler (both Audubon and Myrtle)
common yellowthroat
savannah sparrow
song sparrow
white-crowned sparrow
golden-crowned sparrow (!)
Lincoln's sparrow
red-winged blackbird
American goldfinch
housefinch - Connie, Seattle

csidles at isomedia.com