I Am A Babbling Brook, You Are A Pile Of Bricks

San Francisco has terrible shorebirding. In loving memory of  places that do not have this problem, here are some Wilson's Phalaropes. Photographed at White Lake, North Dakota.

Hello adoring nerds, and welcome to another Monday. A lot of great things have been said about Monday...for much of the Western World, it is the doomiest day of the week. The reasons why need not be explained. Unless you have Mondays off, only a true pervert would take pleasure in going back to work, rather than (*gasp*) take pride and pleasure in their free time. Sure, some people love their jobs, but...that's not many of us. Of course, I am not aiming this at those of us who get paid to look at birds, or those that subscribe to the Perpetual Weekend way of life....we are The Chosen Ones, and we should not let people forget that.

As you read this, I am clearly not working. I am out birding San Francisco. "The City" has its fair share of birders and hotspots, and what it lacks in quality of spots (it doesn't offer any one place that sucks in vagrants like an Arcata Marsh or a Huntington Central Park), it makes up for in quantity and coverage by good observers. So here's to crossing fingers for a Cerulean Warbler or a Red-flanked Bluetail. Good luck navigating your Monday, you must stave off The Doom...or all will be lost. Only when you are living your final days in a nursing home, many years from now, will you realize that you took a very wrong turn on that fateful day...September 19, 2011...the day you chose a career over happiness. Wage slavery over life list. Death over life. The day the music died...

And so much for that. It's September, go birding!