Those three words have echoed in the distance at certain pre-meaningful moments in this one life. Old. World. Species.
I miss those moments, those places, those few people per, those wayward individual youngsters that brought us to those Whens and Wheres.
Old World Species. chase..

Glances at European and Asian fieldguides seem to suggest from plumage characteristics perhaps a first-winter female of the ocularis subspecies. It often seems to be the young birds that get blown about, off course, while trying to figure how to do life as a wagtail.
The first lower 48 Bluethroat, observed while working San Clemente Island off the coast of southern California was “first-fall” female.


This particular formerly first-fall female brought me to the eroded cliff’s edge with people and faces I’ve not seen since the end of a life now past. For that I am thankful, as a certain affirmation perhaps unknowingly needed, was gleaned from that crumbling precipice.


These cropped images, with grain and some lack of clarity, emphasize the distance, low light, and misting rainy conditions falling upon the joyous observers. Observes happy for the bird. Observers, happy for the others there. Happy to see those not seen since.
Old world species.
-Bluethroat 4








