Reunion

At the Master Naturalist convention I met a bunch of old friends.  We start waving at each other half a block away.  I missed the convention last year and am so glad to see everyone again and catch up on their adventures.  Even though I connect with these people only once a year our bond is strong. We listened to a talk about monarchs and gathered outside around a camp fire to enjoy wine, beer, and s'mores.  I slept in the freshman dorm at Saint Mary's University but did not sleep all that well.  I was up early and decided to go on the bird hike.  The leader of the bird hike was the instructor on my prairie and potholes class.  So I know him and he knows me.  I want to behave appropriately. Some of the people there were novices so we had to spend time on using the binoculars correctly and house sparrows.  Actually, we didn't see too much.  I was hoping for a warbler or six warblers but we did get chimney swifts, blue jays, robins, house sparrows, goldfinches, red bellied woodpeckers, downy woodpeckers, hairy wood peckers and one sand hill crane.  As we walked I heard a pheasant.  Dang!  Must restrain myself from shouting, "PHEASANT!" That is what we do in my family. The first one to say "Pheasant" wins some imaginary but important status. I want to say pheasant.  I am compelled to say pheasant.  But with this small group of people who barely know each other, shouting pheasant does not seem like a cool thing to do. The pheasant called again.  Grrrrr!  Three times the cock crowed and I am fuming.  After the fourth pheasant called my eyes were bugging out.  Five times the $1!X* pheasant called.  For God's sake!  Again the pheasant calls!  I restrain myself from holding my hands over my ears and moaning.  This is simply ridiculous.  This is starting to feel personal. I am dying here and no one else comments or seems to notice the pheasant.  How much can I take?  The (insert oath here) pheasant calls for the seventh time. I certainly can not say "Pheasant" now because if I did it would come out in a bloody scream.  Showing restraint has kept too much emotion within and I won't be able to moderate my tone. With my teeth held tightly together my concentration focused I wait and listen. Sure as shooting the pheasant calls again.  Eight times I heard a pheasant and didn't say "Pheasant."  Our bird hike leader says it's time for breakfast. I turn quickly and march back to the student hall where breakfast is served.  As I walk, I talk loudly and aimlessly to another woman with me so that I won't be able to hear if the pheasant calls again.  I talk about quick dry fabric.  Who really cares about quick dry fabric?  Right now, at this time, quick dry fabric is super important to me because it will keep my mind off the pheasant.  We walk quickly up a big hill and I am out of breath but I keep talking until we are out of range of hearing the this very talkative bird again.  I can't wait to get inside where I will be out of hearing of any ring necked pheasants.