My name is Tim Healy and I’m putting together a special team, and I need me two birders. Two former Project Puffin birders. Now, y’all might’ve heard rumors about the migration happening soon. Well, we’ll be leaving a little earlier. We’re gonna be dropped into Texas, dressed as civilians. And once we’re in border territory, as a birdwatchin’ guerrilla army, we’re gonna be doin’ one thing and one thing only… findin’ rarities. Now, I don’t know about y’all, but I sure as hell didn’t come down from the goddamn New York suburbs, cross sixteen hundred miles of the country, drive my way down the Gulf Coast, and sleep on a fuckin’ air-o-plane to let the Mexican birds come to me. Mexican birds ain’t gonna come to me. They’re the foot soldiers of hard-to-find, south-of-the-border species and they need to be eBirded. That’s why any and every son of a bitch we find sneakin’ into the ABA area, we’re gonna twitch. Now, I’m the former employee of the puffin man Steve Kress. That means I got a little field biologist in me. And our battle plan will be that of a Cornell field crew. We will observe the rarities, and through our observation they will know who we are. And they will find the evidence of our observation in the field notes, trip reports, and record photographs of their brothers we leave behind us. And the rarities won’t not be able to help themselves but to imagine the observation their brothers enjoyed at our hands, and our binoculars, and the lenses of our cameras. And the rarities will be surprised by us, and the rarities will talk about us, and the rarities will know us. And when the rarities closes their eyes at night and they’re comforted by their subconscious by the appreciative birders who will come to find them, it will be with thoughts of us they are comforted with. Sound GOOD?!
That’s what I like to hear. But I got a word of warning for all you would-be watchers. When you join my command, you take on debit. A debit you owe me personally. Each and every birder under my command owes me one hundred bird sightings. And I want my birds. And all y’all will git me one hundred bird sightings, including a few dozen lifers. Or you will die tryin’.