S. decided without much discussion that another morning of birding was out of the question for her. The downtown shops were a powerful morning attraction, and knowing that we had the afternoon booked for birding at the Fennessey Ranch was the clincher. S. dropped me at the docks to join Capt. T and his boat the Skimmer about daybreak. I was lugging all my gear, and he and his first mate were prepping the boat. In a quiet moment before the rest of the group arrived, I chatted with him, asking how long he’d been doing this, and he quickly surmised that I really meant why are you doing this? He presented himself as an outgoing, well educated, aggressive business man that I might have met in far different business circumstances. As it turned out I was right. Tommy, until four years ago, had his own successful telecommunications company in Houston. Good prospects in a hot industry and on a fast track. Then at thirty-nine he was struck by a life changing, stress related heart attack. After recovering at the shore of the river Styx, birdwatching sounded pretty good to him.
I asked him if he had known anything about birds before and he replied, “only the ones that relieved themselves on my windshield”. He bought a house, moved his family, bought and remodeled a boat, developed a business plan, bought a bird book and opened for business. According to people in the area that I talked to, he had made a positive impact on the area, knew his birds, and was highly respected by all. He had the blarney gift in addition to his knowledge which was a powerful magnet for the kind of people who buy $4000.00 spotting scopes and traveling 1000’s of miles to catch a glimpse of whooping cranes and other assorted small shore birds. There were about twenty-five people in my group, all of whom had me spotted for a rookie before we cast off the mooring ropes. By the end of the four hour sail, my weak line of bs about birds and birding had confirmed me as a neophyte to all aboard. A good time was had by all, aided in no small part by Capt. Tommy Moore.
But our favorite jaunt of the trip was to Fennessey Ranch which lay about forty miles inland and was composed of 4000 acres or so of what had been a part of one of the major cattle empires of south Texas. Today the ranch specialized in hunting leases, birding and nature tours….which has to be a lot better than any other option today (except oil, that is). What made the afternoon special was Nan and Lyndon. As a cross worder would say…..they are oners. Special, never to be duplicated again. Nan D. and Lyndon H. were a couple certainly, but perhaps not sanctified by the church or state. It was hard to pry much personal information out of them, but my surmise was that they were both in their late 50’s or early 60’s, and had been keeping company for some length of time, perhaps decades. They met us at the gate to the ranch in a converted Swiss army personnel carrier. They both said proudly, “it will take us anywhere.” They were both attired in full birder regalia. Probably not the most expensive, but certainly the most functional. The only sign of economic ostentation was the very expensive (and functional) Swavorski 40x spotting scope that Nan used. It was later revealed that they lived on a small sail boat docked at Port Aransas and drove a small yellow customized school bus. Again, all of the customization wasn’t for creature comforts but for functional purposes.
Lyndon was the driver while Nan stood in back with us. She spotted and directed Lyndon who reacted in perfect harmony. They were good, really, really good at what they did. And what’s more, they clearly were enjoying it even more than we were. It’s as if we were nothing more than a good excuse for them to do what they loved doing. I contested Nan’s call once….I don’t know what possessed me. She called Mockingbird, and I said no, it’s upper parts are too brown. I thought. She disappointedly corrected me like the college professor she had been, and, of course, she was right.
We ultimately had to beg off, claiming a dinner engagement back in Rockport. They were suspicious that we were lying, and we were, but too embarrassed to say they we’d seen all the birds we could handle in a day. Nan and Lyndon were better at doing what they do than anyone in my memory……and they clearly loved doing it. How lucky, they. To be passionate about something they were really good at doing. And getting people like us to pay for it.
Much of the good in travel is getting out of your own realm of experience. Today we succeeded.
