grackles
Jumpingfish doesn't like grackles. Neither do I, for the record, but it's funny how regional that perspective is.
Much of my family enjoys amateur birdwatching, so on vacations and holidays, we find ourselves on bird walks, usually in south Texas, looking for interesting birds -- that is, ones we don't see on a day-to-day basis. We went to a bird walk in Corpus Christi in March, and we met a woman from Pennsylvania who was commenting on what great birds they are. That's the part where we all mutter under our breath about how she's welcome to take them all back with her.
Similar experience: my family recounted a story of a bird expedition they attended in the Rio Grande Valley, where a woman from somewhere far far from here was ecstatic to see a great-tailed grackle because it was her life bird.
As for me, I haven't chosen a life bird yet, but I'm fairly sure it won't be a species that sits atop trees waiting to get a good aim on my car.
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Grackles. Loud. Lots of smelly poop.
Give me a tri-color heron or a Rufus hummingbird, any day!
Grackles are frightening bastards.
Grackles. They're what's for dinner! Oh, wait. That's pork. Anyway, I don't like grackles either.
"Say something productive," he mutters to himself. "Be positive. Don't be such a whiner." ... Ok. Let's try this.
Canyon Wren. Last weekend. Didn't see it, but we heard it in the greenbelt. I'm not a birder, so it was kind of a thrill to "recognize" it. The only reason I knew it, was we had just passed some real birders (complete with binoculars), and they gave us a heads-up.
I still think of grackles like roaches. Doh! Be POSITIVE. Never thought someone might long to see one. No. Be POSITIVE.