I Brake ... for Sticks

I’ve been thinking about getting a bumper sticker that says, “I brake for birds,” … because, I do … a lot.

If I wanted to be really accurate, and if I had enough room, the bumper sticker would read, “I brake for birds like my grandma brakes for garage sales,”

I brake so often, for so many different things, that today I found myself braking for a stick.

In my defense, I thought it might be a snake … so I braked.

It was a stick.

I wind up braking for a lot of sticks.

And that’s okay, because the risk is that I might miss something truly special.

If I had dismissed what I thought was just an ordinary vulture yesterday, I would have missed out on seeing a caracara.

If I had ignored the two men standing on the side of the road a few weeks ago, I would have missed out on the Purple Gallinule and consequently the Virginia Rail.

If I had shrugged my shoulders at the island in the Wetlands because I can never seem to get a good picture there, I would not have gotten a picture today of the Black-crowned Night Heron in flight, red eyes flashing.

I would not have caught the Great Egret swooping past the anhinga nest.

If I had ignored the Red-winged Blackbird this morning because it really is about as common as a stick, I would have missed the bright beauty of its colored wings and its sharp counter-song to the crackling warble of the grackle.

Assume everything is something.

Assume everything is worth five seconds of your time.

Imagine what you might be missing otherwise.