Last weekend we went down to the Humboldt Grange Hall to check out the annual flea market. As we cautiously approached, an over-friendly old man mentioned, “They’re selling fleas in there! Actual fleas!” Beth looked at me with panic in her eyes and I whispered, “Act natural!”
There were tables up and down the hall with chatty old people selling knickknacks. They were so nice! They wanted to learn everything about us, then sell us dusty talismans for twenty five cents. Beth bought a steel flamingo for $2 as we smiled and chuckled and greeted the fraternal members of the Grange Society.
I started going through a box of records as Beth attacked a pile of books. I found a pristine old Merle Haggard album I don’t have for 25 cents, and Beth found a useful gardening book for a quarter, as well as three antique etiquette guides for girls. Hot dog! I dug through a box of old hats in the corner and tried a few on in jest, but one stuck. It was a bright red trucker with the words ALTO BROS TRUCKING — EUREKA, CA. It also cost 25 cents. Then I went big and dropped a dollar on a slice of lemon jell-o cake from the bakesale in the corner and I was in business.
Yeah, the cake was exceptionally moist.
I didn’t really think I’d wear the hat much, but it’s turning out to be a great adventurer’s hat. As well as helping me blend in with the locals, it helps to shield my temples from the northern wind, my eyes from the western sun, and my face from the early morning rain. Furthermore, it reminds me of my dad. I have fond memories of being five and going birdwatching while swapping a camouflage KALO AG trucker hat between us. I have history with swap meet hats.
This week I wore my ALTO BROS on a beach agate expedition to Dry Lagoon where I found a magic orange jellybean stone that I gave to Beth for good luck. Today I went birdwatching on the Hookton Slough and sure was glad I had it.
The sun was blazing bright, and I was peering through my binoculators at birds. Humboldt is an amazing place for birdwatching; the Humboldt bay is a huge spot for migratory birds. Today I sat in the trail for thirty minutes trying to tell whether that chatty yet secretive bird in the reeds was a wren or a gnatcatcher. Since there was nobody around I felt okay sprawling in the trail for the sake of birds. I was hot on the trail of this bird when I spotted a leisure walker in the distance. I was too much in the zone to relent however, and was still seated in the trail when he strolled by in his Jack Daniels free giveaway hat. Turns out it was a Marsh Wren. I think.
The most exciting part came after I’d hit the end of the trail and turned back. I spotted what I thought was a Northern Harrier flying toward me, flapping low across the marshlands. I trained my binocs on it to discover a round face and big eyes: there were a pair of Short-eared Owls out for some sunset hunting!
I grew so excited I was skipping along the trail, thumbing through my bird book, glancing through my glasses. I’ve been talking about owlwatching for the last five years at least, and I’ve only seen Barn Owls and Great Horned Owls. But here I was on the Hookton Slough making a new identification!
I watched the pair of owls soar through the grasslands, pouncing occassionally for prey. They worked a lot like Northern Harriers, which are beautiful, captivating birds, but the owls were somewhat more thuggish. Brute force. The harriers are lighter than air, acrobatic, they flip and dive at their prey, whereas these owls just brandished their talons and bombed, body slam style.
The climax of my birdwalk came when the Short-eared Owls met the Nothern Harriers. They were both hunting in the same pasture, which resulted in some bloodcurdling cackles and warning swoops. A harrier was down in the grass, examining its catch or just hanging out, when one of the owls began a long, sweeping divebomb, aimed right for the hawk! The owl was dropping and I was exclaiming, its talons came out and at the last moment the harrier made a jedi move, a leaping barrel roll, brandishing its claws upside down at the attacker, and the owl relented and pulled up as I was left wide-eyed in the marsh with my new hat.
