I like gear. We have vests with 24 pockets. We have field-guide holders and notebooks that hook to belt loops. We have bird whistles and gum boots and other needful things.
Gear is good.
Pink-cheeked and snoring, these polished little apples of our eyes have fallen asleep. Robin and I chat softly, wondering how a great gray owl might look in person. I read aloud the owl's description from the old Peterson, the new Peterson, the Audubon, and the National Geographic field guides. We eat a couple of bismarcks for luck. An hour later we approach a spit of land that juts like a broken finger into the Atlantic Ocean.