birds of a feather

 I am not big on community; but I am an advocate of cultivating relationships. And that seems to make Mexico a perfect foil for my life here on the Pacific coast.

This morning I was in high-cruise mode on my morning walk. My goal was to complete at least 6 miles before the solar crew showed up at the house to install my panels.

When I am in my exercise zone, that is my sole focus. My purpose in life is to get my steps without stopping. No chatting. No gaping. Just walking at a steady 4 MPH pace.

As so often happens in life, our presence on Earth as moral agents is put to the test. I had just completed 2 miles of my walk when I saw Christine, my former landlady and current savior-of-animals, pedaling in my direction.

Fortunately, it was Christine. She is usually not very chatty. But, having known her for ten years now, our relationship is far too vital to pass by with merely a testosterone-addled grunt.

She seemed mildly excited by something. So, I stopped briefly to discover the source of her contentment.

Both of us are very fond of birds. I often have rare sightings on my walks. The same is true of her bike rides. And we like sharing our little secrets.

For the past couple of weeks, I have walked past a wetland that is in the process of turning into a summer mud flat. There is still ample water to support aquatic wildlife. I know that because flocks of great egrets and white morph great blue herons have taken up housekeeping in the pond.

There have been easily over a hundred. When startled, most of them take flight with a flurry of flapping wings and distinctive croaks that sound as if Katherine Hepburn has been turned into a toad.

But that was not Christine's news. She asked if I had seen the large number of wood storks and roseate spoonbills mixed in with the others.

I hadn't. But that was only because I had allowed my exercise regimen to blind me to another of nature's shows.

These shows are not restricted to Mexico. Mother Nature is a full-opportunity employer. But, in the winter, migrating flocks tend to congregate in our area, giving us an opportunity to see up close what might otherwise go unnoticed.

So, I put my exercise on pause and looked for an advantageous spot to slip through the mangroves to get a better view of the pond.

And there they were. Egrets, herons, spoonbills, storks, and the odd limpkin or two along the shore. It looked like a singles bar on a Friday night. Plenty to drink. A snack to be plucked from the water. And constant chatter of future nesting possibilities.

[Clicking on either photograph will give you a better view.]

If I had followed my rule, I would have not had my conversation with Christine. Instead of missing the birds, I was given a twofer. An almost magical moment with the waders -- and an opportunity to polish up a personal relationship.

Plus I actually ended up notching 10 and a half miles for the morning. I can finish the rest this evening.

I may not be a member of a community, but I do cherish my relationships.