I haven’t been to outer Point Reyes this fall, and I doubt that I’ll make it before the migration ends. Chasing vagrant birds at the Point has lost much of its appeal for me. High winds and blinding fog are frequent out there. Some days you see almost nothing. Other times you show up at the lighthouse trees or the Drake Memorial just after the Connecticut warbler, or whatever the rarity du jour was, has left, forever. There will be gloating; the Point Reyes birding scene is highly competitive. Then there are the reeking bubbling farm ponds, the dairy farmers’ hostile dogs, the pieces of rusted agricultural equipment lurking under the ivy. Most of the time it just ain’t worth it.
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