From my neighbor George...
"Yesterday Cindy pointed out to me that the second accepted California record of the gull that all North American birders hope to see one day - the Ross's Gull - had occurred and abundantly photographed on a parking lot adjacent to Princeton Harbor, which is close by Half Moon Bay, not many miles down the S.F. Peninsula from S.F. proper. Ross's is a gull of the Russian Arctic, which has been recorded breeding in northern Manitoba, and is a rare visitor to Alaska and the Bering Sea, believed to winter on the ocean. I think there are some rare records from New England or thereabouts. This is the second confirmed record for California, the previous one having been seen at the Salton Sea for three days in 2006. I initially thought, "Oh to have driving privileges," but then looked at Peninsula bus schedules, and figured out how I could get there by late morning. After a lot of rain and gray, today was predicted to be sunny.
So I packed my scope & camera into a duffel bag and my binoculars and some warm clothes into a day pack, and headed out at 7:45 to catch the bus to BART. At about 10:45, I was dropped off at the bus stop by the harbor, which is also exactly where the bird had again been reported early this morning - I could see a small crowd near the water. The 1st person I spoke to told me that the bird had taken off and flown northwards at 9 a.m., and no one had re-found it. People had taken off in various directions, and I encountered other birders continually as I walked around the harbor edge and onto a couple of the docks. I drifted around for a couple of hours, seeing a few people I knew but continuing on my own. It occurred to me that I was not in a great situation, in that, if the gull were re-found a mile or two off, I wouldn't have transportation, and I accordingly looked for anyone I could cling to.
I hadn't made any progress when, at about 12:50 p.m., I refreshed the bird-sighting web page I was monitoring on my phone and saw that the bird had been re-found at the Half Moon Bay Airport, which I knew was north of (the tiny) town, though I couldn't say how far. I saw people hustling to their cars and heading out, and I started walking up the drive from the harbor-side towards Highway 1. At a stop sign short of the road, a young woman rolled down her window, I think to alert me to the news, and I asked was she pray tell heading that way, and she let me jump in. Turned out her husband was the one who had just re-found the gull, and she took me to the spot, which turned out to be less than a mile up the highway.
We piled out and joined the crowd of 25-30 people ranged along the highway and running back and forth across the road, causing some traffic issues. The little gull was hanging around a water puddle at the edge of a runway or road about 100 yards inside the airport, easily identifiable by telescope though too far for good pictures for my sort. Soon people discovered that they could drive into an airport parking lot that was closer, and most everybody drove off, and I walked the couple of hundred yards. Ross's is generally considered one of the most beautiful gulls (yeah, I know - gulls!) - small and delicate, with a roseate blush on the breast."
(George had some medical issues that prevents him from driving. He has an appointment with the DMV on the 21st, hoping to be reinstated. Knowing that, this last post should make sense.)
"Also on this Friday the 13th, the Common Pochard was seen again up in Humboldt County - 10 days to go."
- From sdakota.com..."The Common Pochard is a common diving duck of Eurasia. They are only extremely rare vagrants in North America, with most sightings happening in the Aleutians or western Alaska, but sightings have also occurred in California and Saskatchewan. They are ecological counterparts, and very similar to, the Redhead duck that is found in North America."
Sunday footnote. After flying 9,000 miles from the Arctic Circle two peregrine falcons, fierce predators, attacked and killed the gull.
I didn't just post this story to take the covers off birding, but to reveal what it means to be passionate...about anything. Here's what Steve Tobak had to say...
What It Means to Be Passionate About Something
- Humbling yourself and sustaining rejection when you've already paid your dues and there's no earthly reason why you should suffer such humiliation.
- Becoming a sponge - even a student again - when you've already had a career, achieved great things, and the thought of sitting passively and learning or being tested makes you nauseous.
- The thrill of discovery makes you feel like a kid again, even though you're 40 or 50. You revel in having no answers, only questions. FYI, that's what makes Apple products so innovative - they start by asking themselves what people want to do that they can't, what drives them nuts. Without that, there would be no iPod, iPhone, or iPad.
- Then, once you have the answers, you start the whole question-answer loop all over again to raise the bar. Love may mean never having to say you're sorry. But passion means never having all the answers. Besides, if you knew the answers, where's the thrill in that?
- Being labeled a fanatic, a control freak, a perfectionist - and not in a good way - for wanting to learn every aspect and get every detail right. An obvious reference to Steve Jobs, among others.
- Sacrificing and waiting long years for the opportunity, then sticking with it until you achieve your vision, come hell or high water.
- Working at it nonstop, until all hours of the night, seven days a week, for months and months, just to get all that pent-up passion out of your system so you can relax and think clearly and rationally again. Yup, I did exactly that seven years ago - and that book will never ever see the light of day.
- Having so much respect for your passion that you're willing to admit that you don't know squat, even though you've observed from a distance your entire life.
I am seventy, retired, but I still feel passionate about my photography. My wife said, half-critically, "You can't go anywhere without looking." No, Jadyne, I can't. And if such a time comes that I'm indifferent to those activities, those people, those efforts that provide me with such rewards, even if I'm still breathing, I will no longer be living.