Information Blues.

I’m drinking my second Alpha Egret Ale of the evening.

It’s almost spring and all the birds on the lake are pairing up, getting monogamous. I think there’s almost nothing cuter or sweeter than a pair of shiny, fresh mallards entering a trust and following eachother around. Everywhere. It’s hard to resist the mallard man with his reflective teal hood; when the sun catches him it flashes peacock purple. And the mallard female is so sweet, demure in cocoa and tan, dabbling for acquatic plants in the mud.

The eared grebes are pairing up too. They’re gazing into eachother’s orange eyes and falling in love. The buffleheads are in pairs, the ruddy ducks, scaups and goldeneyes. They all know that life is easier in twos.

I walked around the lake listening to a soul mix I made. I decided the theme song of all these birds in committed relationships must be, “I’m A Ram” by Al Green. What an amazing song, so darn sexy, slinky and tight. Whenever I hear his band on those early Hi Masters it blows my mind. How could they be so good? Strutting, gyrating, turning on a dime. I think they’re even funkier than James Brown.

I’m a ram
Bet your life I do
I’m a ram
And I wanna get next to you

I walked around the lake listening to soul, admiring the handsome pairs. I told them, “What a lovely couple!” I doted on each one as Aretha sang in my ears.

Some time last Fall, Simeon and I stopped mid bike ride to perform some birdwatching at a saltwater marsh along the Bay in San Lorenzo. We saw American Avocets fishing, sprinting and bobbing on spindly legs, chasing minnows. Their knees bent backwards and their bills had a sassy, flipped tip; it was a sight to see.

But then in the distance was a commotion. An alpha Egret, taller than a grown man, was going nuts. He was flying about the pond administering smack downs, stomping the competition. Anything white and egretty he spied, he’d fly over with a battle cry, and land on it. Other great egrets: stomp. Little snowy egrets: also stomped.

I giggled and pointed, “Look, it’s the Alpha Egret! Death from above!”

I made a proclamation, “That’s what I’m going to name my next homebrew: The Alpha Egret!”

Much time passed and I even homebrewed in between. And until this evening I was having trouble naming it, which makes double trouble since it’s nearly ready. You can’t drink an unnamed brew! I was contemplating “The Hop Knife” after the freestyle, last minute Ikea butter knife I dropped in the hop bag to weigh it down, stop it from floating. I was considering something invoking the stylish Red Breasted Merganser that’s been hanging out near the boathouse in the southwest corner of the lake; he’s long like a diving submarine, and has James Dean hair. It gathers in the back like a pomade ducktail.

But no, this beer is The Alpha Egret, a strong Caifornia red ale, and with any luck it will be landing on our heads any day now.