Saturday, January 24, 2015

The Compiler

"I asked Marcy if there was a bird she’d always longed to see in the Matheson Wetlands Preserve but still hadn’t. She told me that every year she hoped for a pygmy owl. In this bad weather, she said, owls might be out—it was just dark enough, nearly crepuscular. (Google has a website, Ngram, that counts how many times a word has been used in print between the years 1800 and 2000. “Crepuscular” is on the decline.) No sooner had Marcy said this than I started imagining I was hearing hoots."

My thanks to Flyway: Journal of Writing and Environment, for publishing my story about bird-watching and bird-counting. You can read the full story here.

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