Thinking fast, I fling randomness at him. “Hey, you know lots of stuff, and there’s something I’ve been wondering. If you smoke pot in the ocean, would that be called sea weed?”
Without reacting to my superb wit, he closes the space between us, brushing his arm against mine. “Is it a love of nature or the outdoors? I doubt you’re into photography. So why do you really do this? No way it’s all for some list.”
“Oh, isthatwhat you meant?”
“Yeah. I asked what type of birder you are, and your reply implied you’re the type who only cares about the list.”
An embarrassed chuckle escapes me. “Sorry. I misunderstood your question.” Probably because his covetous focus on me is everything I ever wanted and nothing I’m allowed to have.
I sigh, scooting away from him to reclaim the space he invaded with his unfairly sexy presence. “You’re right. I’mnota lister. I thought you were asking specifically about my list.”
Running my words back, I add an explanation for the lingo. “Alisteris someone who only does this to tick birds off their list.”
“That one I was able to follow.” He chuckles quietly and looks away from me.Finally. “Still waiting to find outwhyyou do this.”
“Well, I love birdsandthe beauty of nature.” Pausing, I search for the words to articulate my motivation without revealing my darkest secret. “Even though I’m alone, I don’tfeelalone when I’m birding.”
She’s with me in spirit.
Although true, those aren’t my only catalysts. Just because he wants to know doesn’t mean I have to tell him.
My reasons are mine and mine alone.
As if aiding me in escaping a heavy topic, a familiar bird call reaches my ears. I straighten my body, pushing off the railing. “Reed, do you hear that?”
“I hear a lot of things out here. More specific, please.”
While scanning the trees for the source, I imitate the sound, using the same staccato rhythm as the bird. Reed releases a call of his own, which is something between a choke and a cough. I don’t need to see him to know he’s holding back a laugh.
I’m such a dork.
But that’s on him. If he wanted cool Lila, he shouldn’t have brought my fantasy date to life.
“Oh,thatsound. Yes. Do you know them by ear?”
“Occasionally. Judging by the rhythmic chirpy song, it’s probably a warbler, and some of them have stunning colors. I hope we can find it. Can you hand me the binoculars?”
He opens the bag and passes them to me. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Actually, yes. Grab the notebook. When I spot birds I don’t recognize, I’ll have you write down their traits so I can look them up later. I prefer to stay in the moment rather than searching the guidebook or the web to identify it. When you do that, you miss the bird. They tend to fly away. Rascals.”
“Be the court reporter. Got it.”
I seek out my new feathered friend, finding him in short order, and then put the binoculars to my eyes to zoom in. “There he is. It’s a black and white warbler.”
“And is that aliferfor you?”
“Nope.” I inhale, slowly releasing a peaceful sigh. “But he’s beautiful. His coloring is amazing. You need to see him.”
Tranquility drapes over me, soothing my tattered soul. And it hits me all at once.
This is it.
Thisis my joy.
As nerdy or boring as it might be, birding has always enthralled me. When I was a small child, I recall listening eagerly to my aunt rambling about all the birds she’d ticked in between her visits. I convinced her to bring us on her next outing.
From that day forward, I was hooked. The fresh air. The sounds. The animals. The beauty of nature. The thrill of the chase, hoping to find rarely seen birds to add to my life list. I adore absolutely everything about this.
