If you do enough
birding, you know to always expect the unexpected, but a recent experience for this old birder over the weekend even took me by surprise. I spent most of Saturday out on the trail in one of our local Forest preserves and was enjoying a fine day of birding with the
Leica 10x25. Of course, I eventually needed to find a restroom, so I headed for a nearby Port Potty at the edge of a parking lot. I leaned my bike next to the outhouse, then entered and went about my business. Soon done, I was cinching up my biking coat, when I heard an audible "Plop!" behind me. I looked down into the bowels of the hole beneath me and was shocked to see my old trusted Sibley Bird Guide to Eastern North America floating in the … well, you know what. I had been carrying it in the pouch in the back of my bike jacket and had neglected to zip the pouch shut.
Now what? Decision time, but, darn, I couldn't bear to leave the Sibley to such an ignominious fate. I very gingerly reached in and pulled it to safety by the very tips of my fingers. It was dripping with … well, let's jusy say it was beyond salvaging. The least I could do, though, was give it a better burial. Then, as I stood in that outhouse with my Sibley's held out at arm's length, the absurdity of the situation hit me. I broke out into uncontrollable laughter, even though logic told me I had just seen twenty plus dollars and an old friend go down the … Could it get any crazier?
Sure. I opened the outhouse door, field guide in the tips of my finger, still laughing, only to see two very perplexed guys staring at me as they waited to use the outhouse. I just walked by, dropped the Sibley in a recycling container, then hopped on the bike and headed to the nearest gas station to wash my hands and I do mean wash my hands (I stopped counting at ten). Next stop, the book store to replace my Sibley field guide.
Note to David Allen Sibley: My deepest apologies. This was an accident and should not be taken personally in any way. I'm glad you didn't autograph this copy, at least.