The Gods Must Be Angry

In the words of the immortal band Talking Heads, "My god, what have I done?"

Ah, how good were those Halcyon Days of Innocence. Those times when we believed new birds could be found around any corner, when our cache of Karma would see us through our trials and tribulations. Our list increased nearly daily, and Things were Good. But, that was Then.

In this new, crueler world, the Good Deeds of the Past have been forgotten by the Birding Gods. Did you help that rookie birder identify a sparrow? Bah. Did you pick up and properly dispose of carelessly discarded fishing line, preventing a bird from becoming entangled? Not good enough.

You see, Gentle Reader, we have been abandoned by those Birding Gods that once aided and supported us. The past week has been a Miserable Failure wrapped in a Waste of Time, as we have struck out on every bird we hoped to find in the Rio Grande Valley and a side trip to New Mexico.

As you already know, the pelagic trip into the Gulf of Mexico produced exactly 0 (zero) new birds. A guided field trip to several Rio Grande Valley hot spots? Nada. Three days of chasing Hook-billed Kite reports? We may as well have been looking for an Ivory-billed Woodpecker.

Plus, somebody bought my winning Powerball ticket and the weather was hot, humid, and foggy. Just look at what we had to deal with:

I've never experienced fog when the temperature was 80F before. The air was so wet, we felt raindrops even though there were no clouds.

Thinking a change of scenery would be good for our luck, the past few days saw us chasing a report of a rare oriole in south-eastern New Mexico, and trying to scare up a late-season Lesser Prairie Chicken. FAIL and FAIL.

So, as a consolation prize, we took a side trip to visit Carlsbad Caverns National Park. It’s absolutely beautiful and amazing, and worth a trip if you’ve never done it:

Tiny stalactites on the ceiling, a couple huge stalagmites growing up in the middle, and other formations on the far right. 

But consistent with our week, the elevators were closed for repair. So, while our audio tour crowed about how wonderful the elevators were going to be, we enjoyed our 1.5 mile hike back up an incline as steep as 20% to reach the top. Sigh.

Tonight, we’re in Colorado, outside Denver. We’re taking two evenings to try for a Boreal Owl, which is going to be tough, but our spirits aren’t completely broken (yet).

Because Hope is a Thing with Feathers. Or a Thing that seeks Feathers. Or it Tickles you with Feathers. Whatever.

Things are gonna change, I can feel it,
Me