Ballad of the Booby

an August in twenty thirteen
the blue-footed boobies
journeyed north for the anchovies
word came they were all juvies


a terrible birder joined the quest
anxious for a brief glimpse
Bodega! Reyes! The City!
denied in each instance



a guano rich rock in Marin
the final chance for the success
highway one hugs the winding coast
he, oddly free of stress


then at mile nine - quick over a fence
sharp shrubs, slick sediment
left his clothes torn with hands bleeding
damn all impediment!


at the edge where spray could be felt
rest along a rocky rise
binoculars out on the search
relentless scans tire eyes


to the north a lonely fisher
while straight a-west booby
"nay, there two clearly on Gull Rock"
the birder cried with glee

after an hour he was sated
steep hike up, yet peppy
a glorious success today
what could halt this jolly?


there at the top - two old birders
with scope trained obscure
"come have a look" they said with grins
without sweat, a sight pure