Nature Beyond Solitude by John Seibert Farnsworth

Author:John Seibert Farnsworth [Farnsworth, John Seibert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-11-06T00:00:00+00:00

Sunday II

I almost arrive late, and Sunday II has already dispersed into quadrant teams when I get to the top of the hill. There’s a westerly breeze and some distant fog spreading to the ocean horizon below. After yesterday’s heat it feels merciful.

I find the day leader, a genial fellow who I’ve worked with before. Horacio. I ask him whether he wants me to join a quadrant—the alternative is to become an irregular myself—and Horacio asks me to join the team in the east quadrant. My two partners include an apprentice, Joey, who works at Point Reyes National Park as an NPS intern, and Christine, an IT developer who works with large-system medical records and who describes herself as a novice in her second year on Hawkwatch. They are a joy to work with, and I immediately feel as if I’ve been adopted by a new team.

Shortly after shifting to the south quadrant after the first hour I am approached by four Canadians who I instantly recognize as serious birders—they are all sporting high-end binoculars that cost as much as a decent horse. What I do not realize is that they’d all been attending a professional conference on monitoring bird populations. Their leader, unable to hide the mischief in his smile, asks, “How do you know you’re not counting the same birds twice?”

We get that question a lot. I launch into the usual explanation, saying, “We use a quadrant system where we pass …”

I am interrupted by Canadian laughter. Then, the one who had laughed the loudest explained, “That’s exactly what Allen said you’d say.”

Allen Fish, the Grand Pooh-Bah of the GGRO, has just celebrated his thirtieth anniversary on Hawk Hill. As soon as my new Canadian friends have formally introduced themselves, I spot Allen puffing up the hill. An affable, barrel-chested man with a beard fuller than my own, he comes to me immediately, shakes my left hand, and apologizes for the bee sting I’d suffered a week ago. (A yellow jacket had crawled into my sandwich while I was paying attention to a male northern harrier, and stung me on the side of my tongue once I took the next bite. What was funny about the whole situation is that after I’d gone to the first aid kit for some Benadryl, I was approached by the Hawkwatch director, Step Wilson, who asked, in his most sympathetic voice, “You gonna finish that sandwich?”)

Today turns out to be Allen’s fifty-fifth birthday. One of the interns, Violet, leads us in a round of “Happy Birthday to You.” I note that most of the hawkwatchers are singing with their backs turned to Allen while they continue to monitor their respective quadrants. We’ve all been trained—by Allen himself—to keep our eyes on the sky. This piece of Hawkwatch etiquette is vital enough to have been mentioned twice in the Hawkwatch manual.

It’s turning out to be a tough day for counting raptors. Things will nearly shut down for ten or fifteen minutes, and then we get a spurt of activity where it is almost impossible to count quickly enough.

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