Two Questions, Maybe Three

Red-tailed Hawk

I’ve been fortunate to bird in California for the past 10 days or so, long enough to get that California-mellow feeling about most things in life. So, this morning, birding a spot I had not visited for several years because of fire damage, I was Mr. Mellow, more or less ready for anything. I was hit with a couple questions, questions I seem to hear wherever I bird, questions I was able to answer in a laid-back manner, not the usual smart-ass replies I prefer to give. When it was all over, I thought about the questions and tried to find some common denominator.
Question one, from two women walking what I suppose were dogs.
Them: (All eyes, smiles and excitement.) Seen any good birds, yet?
Me: (Thinking all birds are good. And what’s a good, or bad, bird? And ‘yet’ implies that I will.) Oh yeah, but then, I’m from Cleveland so …
Them: (Mumbling something about Cleveland.) Great weather. What didja see?
Me: (Always ready to educate.) Well, there’s a nice Spotted Towhee just ahead of you, and Lesser Goldfinches seem to be everywhere.
Them: (Already disengaged.) Well, have a nice day!
Me: (Somewhat baffled.) Ah, thanks.
The second question of the morning was one our birding buddy, Pat Coy, absolutely loves, looks forward to, stays up at night in anticipation of.
Man walking his dog: (Making a statement, not asking a question.) So, you’re a bird watcher?
Me: (Being mellow.) Yup.
Him: (Authoritatively.) So, ya seen any eagles, yet.
Me: (Trying my damndest to repress a laugh.) Well, no. Don’t really expect to. It’d be nice, of course, but …
Him: (Not letting me finish.) Hell’s bells, they’re all over the place. Look right over there.
Me: (Always ready to educate.) Ah, that’s a Red-tailed Hawk.
Him: (Turning to leave in a huff.) Bullshit.
Me: (Being mellow.) Ah, have a nice day.
The third question was similar to the first two, really more of a statement than a question. Three well-dressed (for walking) ladies with one white dog smaller than most cats I’ve seen.
Lady with the bluest hair: (Eyes on all my cameras, binoculars, etc.) Are you looking for birds?
Me: (Asking the higher powers not to say, ‘No, fish, actually.) Yup.
Lady #2: (Trying not to have her kneecaps sliced by the frigging dog that kept yapping and running around.) Do you need all that stuff?
Me: (Suddenly feeling the various straps cut into my flesh.) Well, I take a lot of pictures and …
Lady #1: (Trying to skip rope with the dog leash.) Why don’t you just look them up in the internets? That’s easier. Besides, where are they?
Me: (Blinded by this flash of the obvious.) Ah, well, ah, all you have to do is look up …
The trio: (Satisfied they had given me necessary advice to succeed in life.) You just have a nice day, young man.
I had to sit on the nearest log, totally exhausted, and think about this last hour of conversations. These people were all out walking in a county park, so how could they be so oblivious to their surroundings?
That was when I remembered something a botanist told us yesterday, “There are a lot of people suffering from NDD around here.”
I had to ask what NDD was, and prepared to stop at the local pharmacy to get some protection.
“It’s Nature Deficit Disorder,” he said.



Lesser Goldfinch