Do you, too, rue Smew? 
                  Yes I do! Yes I do!  
                  by Luke W. Cole 
                    One bird, two bird, red bird, blue bird... 
                  I do not like to wait all day, 
                    I do not like it, yet I stay  
                    I do not like it in the rain 
                    I do not like it on the plain 
                   I do not like it by the trees 
                    I do not like it while I freeze  
                    I do not like on a log  
                    I do not like by a bog 
                  I do not like it on my feet  
                    I do not like it by the street  
                    I do not like to wait all day,  
                    For a bird that's gone astray 
                   But I do  
                    Yes I do  
                    Just to see  
                    The little smew 
                  In the rain,  
                    on the plain  
                    By the trees,  
                    while I freeze  
                    On a log,  
                    by a bog  
                    On my feet,  
                    by the street 
                  There I wait,  
                    for that bird 
                    "Seen here yesterday,"  
                    so I've heard 
                     
                    Not seen Friday, when I looked  
                    But there through Monday, while I'm booked  
                    Not there Tuesday, when I'm back  
                    There on Wednesday, to thrill the pack 
                  Shouldn't I really be at work?  
                    All those cases I must shirk  
                    Just to spy something white  
                    a little duck, quite a sight  
                    In from Russia, or is it British?  
                    All I know is its mighty skittish 
                   I do not like to wait all day,  
                    I do not like it,  
                    yet I stay 
                  The crowd in the mud marks the place,  
                    So I find a parking place  
                    "We've been here since dawn!" they all howl  
                    "Best bird yet is the Great Horned Owl!"  
                     
                    Each one drove for miles  
                    Just to endure the locals' smiles  
                    No bird, though, just loose lips  
                    Talking about birds and a thousand trips 
                  So I stand, on the bank  
                    Listening to birders proclaim their rank:  
                    "Nome Nome Barrow Attu Attu"  
                    "Have you seen my falcon tattoo?"  
                    "Peru Ecuador Costa Rica"  
                    "But I've got the new birding sneaker!" 
                  "Murphy's, Manx, Booby, Goose"  
                    "Oh, someone must have let that loose"  
                    "Warbler Oriole Bunting Brambling"  
                    And other inspired birders' rambling... 
                  "Calbird e-mail RBA"  
                    "Oh, I was there that day!"  
                    "Big Day Big Year County Lister"  
                    "I saw the reeve -- oh, you missed her?"  
                    This bird, that bird, the Blue Mocker  
                    This is birding,  
                    everyone's a talker 
                  And, I must say  
                    Though I snigger,  
                    I too play,  
                    Mine is bigger 
                    "The albatross,"  
                    I begin  
                    Watching for their chagrin... 
                   "There! There! In the river!"  
                    Each of us gives a shiver  
                    Something white has just popped up!  
                    Inevitably, a styrofoam cup 
                  Back to banter, boast and tale  
                    And sometimes a bird -- "kestrel, male"  
                    While we wait beside the slough  
                    Nothing much better we can think to do 
                   I do not like to wait all day,  
                    I do not like it,  
                    yet I stay 
                   I explore around the spot  
                    Good birds there are, but Smew, not  
                    Rough-leg, Ferruginous, pipit, lark  
                    Nuthatch, magpie, before its dark  
                    Mountain plover in the next county  
                    But I still missed the day's big bounty 
                   The next day at work,  
                    I watch the screen  
                    As Calbird tells me the Smew is seen 
                   It would be another lifer  
                    Something I should really try for  
                    Something great, something new  
                    Something awesome, that little Smew 
                  Shall I go in the morning?  
                    From the wife and boss, a warning  
                    Classes to teach, kids to feed  
                    And this is a job I need... 
                  So I sit, here at home  
                    Writing down this silly poem  
                    Cursing all I have to do  
                    While my friends see the Smew... 
                   I do not like to wait all day,  
                    But I'd rather be there,  
                    than here,  
                    today! 
                    
                  © 2000 Luke Cole 
                    (first posted to Calbirds, 28 Jan 2000) 
                  [Luke Cole was tragically killed in a car crash  
  in Uganda on 5 June 2009]  | 
                
                    
                      
                          Rue the Smew? 
                              by Don Roberson  
                        I too had stood in sodden bog  
                          With feet of ice and eyes agog  
                          Staring at the bubbling stream  
                          Where the Smew had once been seen  
                        'Twas the same and awful scene 
                          Where the famous root beer king * 
                          Had spent his hours upon the stage  
                          And looked at bobbing cups in rage  
                          And spoke of famous birding tales  
                          Of missing birds in sudden gales  
                          Of birding gods, Guy and Zeus  
                          And wrote up lines like Dr. Seuss  
                        But those were dark and distant days . . .  
                          The gods have worked in wondrous ways  
                          Another Smew in Soulsbyville  
                          Might provide at last the missing thrill  
                        And so they came across the State  
                          Ed from Pasadena, to connect with fate  
                          On a sunny Saturday . . . .  
                          When the Smew was away.  
                           
                          There too I stood among the throng  
                          But once again we'd had it wrong  
                          To rue the Smew was our reward  
                          For standing there and being bored.  
                           
                          Back through the night -- a gloomy drive  
                          To places where no Smew would dive  
                          Then woke up Sunday to the news  
                          The Smew was back to beat our blues!  
                        Through Merced, Snelling, Los Banos, too  
                          It was all so deja vu  
                          The long drive back to that darn pond  
                          And a drake of which we were so fond  
                           
                          And so we now conclude the lore  
                          Of Russian ducks upon our shore  
                          The griefs of past are retrospective  
                          Now replaced by this perspective:  
                        No rue the Smew.... but rather  
                          Whenever birders gab and gather  
                          My mood will change from bright to bleak....  
                          When they talk about a gull that's pink. **  
                        D. Roberson (28 Jan 2007)  
                        Footnotes:  
                        
                          * Luke Cole was famed for his root beer parties and expertise 
** My 'worst miss' in California at the time was the Ross's Gull that
I'd chased and missed at the Salton Sea in Nov 2006 — the State's only
record until Jan 2017  
                         
                        
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                          The Soulsbyville Smew 
                                
                            photo 28 Jan 2007 © D. Roberson 
                        | 
                     
                    
                      Some more thoughts  about chasing California rarities 
                        This
is the cover of the California Bird Records Committee book (2007),
which summarized their decisions [i.e., accept or reject] of reports of
State rarities. The cover art is by Peter Gaede and is entitled California Dreamin'.
Ten species are illustrated and they could easily be someone's choices
for the "top ten rarities" for the State. At the time of publication, 8
of those shown had but a single State record, and two had but two
[Little Bunting, Varied Bunting]. The over-sized White-tailed
Tropicbird dominates the lower left corner; an adult was at Upper
Newport Bay, ORA, displaying to model airplanes (!) from 24 May-29 Jun
1964. That was long before I was chasing California birds. The
remaining birds are, clockwise around the map of California, starting
from upper left: Light-mantled Albatross, White-collared Swift,
Fork-tailed Flycatcher, Varied Bunting, Eye-browed Thrush, Belcher's
Gull, Little Bunting, Terek Sandpiper, and Golden-cheeked Warbler.  
                          
                        Of
the 10 birds on this cover, I've seen five of them. I was present when
the Death Valley Varied Bunting was found, and was the first to
photograph it. I successfully chased the Fork-tailed Flycatcher, Terek
Sandpiper, Little Bunting and Belcher's Gull, but only the first two
"made" my personal "top 20" chase list. If you were near enough to
Galileo Hill, Kern Co., on 28 May 2001 you could chase the Eye-browed
Thrush until sunset. I was not close enough and did not chase that one.
The remaining 4 species were unchaseable. As noted, the tropicbird was
long before my time. One had to be on the Cordell Bank pelagic trip of
17 July 1994 to see the albatross. The Golden-cheeked Warbler was
netted on SE Farallon I. on 9 Sep 1971 and collected. The
White-collared Swift was foraging with swallows over Pt. St. George,
Del Norte Co., on 21 May 1982. It was seen by 5 observers but not
photographed; it was never seen again.   | 
                     
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