|This guy was was watching me on my morning walk with Lucy Liu and Dexter.|
I am not a birdologist, or whatever they're called, but I figure each new species that was the norm for whatever geographic area I was in was an upgrade up to that point.
Then I moved to Ohio. I don't recall birds. At all. It's as though even they knew the place sucked and were wondering why the hell we were all sticking around.
When I moved back home to California I ended up on the Monterey Peninsula. More seagulls. Annoying fucking seagulls. And the occasional turkey vulture. Oh, and sometimes turkeys. Sorta cool, I guess.
My last stop in California was in the middle of the Mojave Desert. Crows were replaced by their massive counterparts, the raven. Less shrieky, more intimidating. We also had the occasional hawk land in our yard.
Then I moved to Mexico Beach and got to hear the phrase, I love the black faced ones!
|His face is actually black. If you were assuming something else, you might be a racist.|
Like I was saying, my life measured in birds...
|Three little birds|
It has become far more interesting and diverse. Not a phrase I would have ever associated with living in the south. But it is true.
|American as fuck|
There is a decided upswing to my life when measured in birds. Really, by any measure.