An English In Kentucky


















October 31st 2010    Tim Candler

    An enthusiastic wind.  Fifteen to twenty five knots.  Sun with dangerous sea level blue sky.  Blinding glare from moving salt water.

    Sandpipers belong to the same genre of confusion as Warblers.  Fortunately for Sandpipers there is a coverall name for them that rings true to me.  They are called collectively “Peeps”.  But into this area of confusion I will add Plovers, because so far I have been unable to distinguish a Sandpiper from a Plover.  It is possible of course that I am looking at a Whimbrel, or a Godwit, or a Dowitcher, or a Phalarope, or a Willit.


     Perhaps if I lived here for as long as I have lived in Kentucky the distinctions between these families might emerge in the mind and I could nod my head in that knowing way.  I remember how hard it was to learn the distinction between a Field Sparrow and a  Chipping Sparrow.  That was a long uphill struggle that served very well to remind me how quickly I was losing brain cells, and how short a distance I have yet to go.

   I should seize the day, stop emulating the Grey Cat, end this quarrel I have with windiness and sunshine and fishermen and people who take dogs for walks on beaches.  And here I would argue strongly for a bacon and scrambled egg sandwich.

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