Birds. Glorious Birds.
… reads this brand new site’s tagline. And such language might actually seem exciting if we were in England. But the Concord Avian Society is actually a group of guys I went to high school with who spend their weekends watching birds. Yes, the kind that fly – not the kind that hang around in tight Robbie Williams T-shirts waiting for you to buy them pints of bitter. Or ‘my type’ as they’re more commonly known.
Although their consolidation and website are relatively new, these guys have been ‘birding’ for years. When someone first told me this crew had become fowl-fondlers I originally thought they were kidding. Tromping through Walden woods on a Friday night looking for owls sounds like something you’d have to endure after losing a bet. But when you dig a little bit deeper into their modus operandi, the avian attraction becomes more apparent.
“Friday night we will be heading out to Egg Rock in search of a Barred Owl. There will be no booze at this event, unless Cato brings Bud pounders“.
OK, now you’ve gotten my attention. I haven’t raced through the woods with a six-pack of pounders since about 1991. OK – last weekend if we’re splitting hairs. And apparently the society also encourages hazing and deviant sexual activities. I may be in.
“We will head up to Rockport and Gloucester in search of Harlequin Ducks and Razorbills. Please dress accordingly and leave your sarcasm at the door. I’m bringing the Rocky Soundtrack, so if anyone gets out of line you’ll be put through rigorous training… we can catch a lunch of fried clams in Essex where Savage will hit on a barley legal waitress at Woodman’s“.
Now that sounds like a Saturday. Get me a pair of binoculars and some bird-lice talc. I think I’m going to ask Wells if they’ll grant me honorary member status. A wise man once said, “Are you going to chirp all day little birdie, or are you going to peck?” I’m definitely a pecker.
That looks like it could be lots of fun if there were a cube and quarter of Skunk B involved. And strippers.