We called that little warbler "Our Bird"

"A photo on Facebook today made me start thinking about Our Bird."
"I don't remember how we ended up walking on the train tracks behind FEL but you would remember."
"We were on our break. Was that our first date?"

"That little scold interrupted whatever it was we were talking about. We surprised each other because we both knew exactly what bird it was."
"That little Yellowthroat held center stage and made sure we were properly introduced to each other. He instantly became Our Bird."

"I was already in love with you and now, with that blessing, there was no turning back."

"We were lucky the little dynamo is the Common Yellowthroat. We get to relive that moment often."

"I made a comment on that photo today (it was three Eastern Bluebirds) and said I had some serious birding to catch up on."
"It took me a while to realize just how close to impossible that's going to be. I can't bird without you. I can't hear anything smaller than a crow and that's the least of my problems. The only thing worse than birding alone is birding with a group of strangers."

"Imagine this scenario: Our Bird pops out of the briers and I just stand there 'cause I'm reliving that moment, all choked up. Some busy-body birder stops to lecture me on how to identify that particular warbler. Well, what are the odds that I'll smile and say thank you? Nope, I'd say, 'Piss off you mangy magpie. That bird and I were intimates before you were even a wet dream.' Nope, won't work."

"At least that group of birders are likely to remember me."
"So birding alone is off the table."

"How about an add in the Press? 'Cranky old hippy, looking for 1 or 2 old birders that can actually hear birds smaller than a crow. You can't lecture him about your great birding skills but must be able to smile when he does it.' Can you visualize them, slipping away, going into hiding?"

"What if they don't slip away? Well then you're left with the elephant in the room."

[Common Yellowthroat image by Dan Pancamo]