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harlequin high



	I just drove almost 600 miles in one whirlwind of a birding trip to
the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and am thoroughly energized by two sights: A
raft of 10 Oldsquaws floating and diving calmly even as the cold, gray
water whipped itself up into a fury all around them. 

	The second was a sight I have awaited for a decade now: a male
harlequin duck on island four. It did everything for me: it dove, it
clambered up on rocks, it preened, it slept, it flapped its stiff
little wings, and it maintained a decorous distance from the two
females with it. It even dodged an evil-intentioned Ring-Billed Gull
that tried dive bombing it.  And my, was it ever stunning. 

	On the way back through gray Richmond I wondered how, in the face of
such incredible beauty, we had managed to create concrete freeways. 

	Just a high I thought I would share.

Shantanu Phukan