海角大神

A listless life

I鈥檓 not going to be sure I鈥檝e seen a 鈥渓ife list鈥� bird until it鈥檚 10 feet away and looks like a Victorian lady鈥檚 hat. But I鈥檓 OK with that.

I聽understand why people collect things. Collectors have fun everywhere they go. They鈥檒l pop into junk stores looking for salt cellars, or old toys, or movie posters. Their houses are cluttered with porcelain pigs, or frogs, or owls. Some people have gun collections, which sounds a lot nicer than 鈥渁rsenal.鈥� Sometimes people give you stuff they鈥檙e sure you鈥檙e collecting, which is why I have a number of lizards that they thought were salamanders. All my friends know I like salamanders, but salamanders are not lizards, and anyway, I don鈥檛 collect them.

I don鈥檛 collect anything. Clutter can weigh down the heart. If I could collect something, it would be bird species I鈥檝e seen. Birders call that a 鈥渓ife list.鈥� That鈥檚 a collection that has the advantage of fitting into a small notebook. Or, in my case, a sticky note.

The fact is, I don鈥檛 have what it takes. You鈥檙e supposed to look for the bird鈥檚 field marks 鈥� that might be its wing bars or eye rings, its bling, its sass 鈥� whatever makes it special. I can鈥檛 remember the field marks of a bird for as long as it takes to put down the binoculars and look in the field guide. Later I can鈥檛 remember having seen the bird at all.

This sounds bad, but it鈥檚 not a sign of deterioration. I鈥檝e always been this way. I don鈥檛 recognize my neighbors if they鈥檙e not standing under their house numbers. I鈥檝e played piano for 60 years and have no repertoire. I look up 鈥渙ligarch鈥� at least once a week.

The other day I got my new debit card in the mail and had the opportunity to change the default PIN to one I鈥檇 be more likely to remember, so I did. Next time I used the card, I punched in the old number, then my address, my birthday, and my anniversary, and the machine ate my card. It wouldn鈥檛 give it back until I described its field marks.聽

So when I鈥檓 out with real birders, sometimes they鈥檒l point out some marvelous feathered friend, and I get all excited, and they say, 鈥淚s that a life bird for you?鈥�

How should I know? I鈥檓 outclassed. These are people who can tell a greater yellowlegs from a lesser yellowlegs even when there鈥檚 only one of them. We have a dozen gull species on the left coast and as far as I can tell they鈥檙e peas in a pod. I鈥檓 not going to be sure I鈥檝e seen a life bird until it鈥檚 10 feet away and looks like a Victorian lady鈥檚 hat.

That鈥檚 why I was so tickled recently when I saw a life bird all by myself, and knew it. I didn鈥檛 know what it was; I had to look it up. But I was sure I鈥檇 never seen it before. It was a woodpecker. But not a hairy, or a downy, or a pileated, or a red-bellied (named for its red head, just to mess with you), or a black-backed, or an acorn. Those I鈥檝e seen. This one was different. I was crowing, as it were, about my life bird later.

鈥淲hat was it?鈥� my friends asked.

Well, crumb. They had to ask. I鈥檇 just looked it up the day before, and now I couldn鈥檛 remember what it was called. I knew it was a woodpecker. I knew it had a white head.

So I looked it up again.

It was a white-headed woodpecker. And possibly an oligarch.