During a field trip to Bloomingdale Bog that my wife and I led for Northern New York Audubon, a woman who hadn’t said a thing for an hour and a half, nor smiled, turned to me with a merciless look and demanded: “I wanna see a white-breasted nuthatch!”
Soon as she spoke, I heard one, close by, holding forth for all it was worth.
“Do you hear this, I said, pointing in the direction of the song?”
“Yes,” she said, “what is it?”
“A white-breasted nuthatch,” I explained. At the same moment I sighted the bird, 15 feet away, at eye level. The woman frowned and looked at me suspiciously, then took an unusually long time to look in the direction I indicated.
Listen
I directed my laser pointer at…