There seems to be something in human nature that enjoys a rarity. We like thinking we are having a unique experience or seeing a rare sight. Is it because we spend so much time in groups and have so much in common with our fellow humans that something unusual and seemingly individual makes us feel special and different?
When I was about 8 years old and the proud owner of a new Kodak Brownie camera my family piled into the old 1955 black Oldsmobile and drove to Wellfleet to see a rare bird. Now, my family was not a family of birders. My parents fed the birds each winter and knew the names of the common birds, but some of my first memories of my dad were of him crossing the barren cornfields next door in autumn looking for crows. Did I mention my dad was carrying a rifle?
Anyway, this trip from Hyannis to Wellfleet was to go see an albino robin that had been captured and was being held by Wellfleet Audubon (which is what we called it then.) A newspaper article had said the public was invited to come see it and so we were off on an exciting adventure. This was probably in 1963 or ‘64 but like many childhood memories it’s a bit blurry. read more...
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