Intro: “57 Seconds”

An editor at a big newspaper made a small discovery. This was in the recent past when big newspapers were big. The editor discovered that some people liked short stories better than long ones. He did research, testing articles of varying length. Short won. Out of this knowledge came a little column called “Got a Minute.” It was about everything and nothing, and ran on Sundays for four years. The Two-Fisted Birdwatcher (writer of that column) figures that the same logic applies to stories on a website. So, we offer this category called, simply, “Shorts.” In it, you’ll find nothing that takes more than a minute to read. About as long as it took you to read these words.

One: “Maine sweatshirt” (54 seconds)

It’s a wintry weekend and you’re going birding. Crossbills have been reported. You want to wear your warmest sweatshirt. The one with a hood and the word MAINE across the chest. Your wife got it at the university there, knowing you’re a fan of any place where there are Bald Eagles. You can’t find this shirt, and yell into the next room, “Honey, where’s my MAINE sweatshirt!” She doesn’t hear you, so you try again, louder, as you walk through the house. “Anybody seen my MAINE sweatshirt?” Your kid comes up and asks, “Dad, don’t you have, like, a second choice?” You answer that you really want your MAINE sweatshirt. You can’t understand the funny look he gives. A minute later you race after him to explain, but he’s out for the day, probably telling his friends that his dad had a main sweatshirt and couldn’t find it.

Two: “Lost!” (51 seconds)

Birders know this. Even two-fisted ones: It can take less than a minute to get lost in the woods.  You duck into the trees to find nature’s natural bathroom, and when you bushwhack back to the trail, it’s just not there. Suddenly there’s nothing but more trees, and now there are brambles.  Spiders and ticks. Coyotes, foxes, feral dogs, a rumored cougar that was sighted recently; gangsters’ marijuana fields, daytime owls (the worst of omens) and circling vultures.  You have to find the trail!  You go left and it’s not there.  Then right, but you’re heading deeper into strange unmarked woods.  And you’re not even in true wilderness! There’s a suburb nearby. You can almost hear cars in the distance over your pounding heart.  So you run, knowing you’ll eventually get out of the woods, unless you run in a circle.  Then you’ll never get out, so you run faster, crazed.  All in the time it takes to read this.

Three: “Two-Fisted Major Leaguers” (56 seconds)

This is about Orioles, Blue Jays, Cardinals, you know, ball teams. Okay, this time we’re not talking birds. But we are talking “Two-Fisted.” Guys in the majors who never wince, say ouch, jump around in pain or rub a booboo.  Even though it’s hard to keep your cool when a rock-hard baseball thrown by a rock-hard pitcher like Randy Johnson (see our Viewpoint, Baseball and Sudden Death) slams into your ribs at 90 miles an hour.  Or maybe the ball hits your elbow, hip or thigh.  Hits with a force that can chip bone, bruise muscle, bust veins and cause a black-and-blue mark that’ll last a month.  This kind of body shot can make a guy want to scream like a little girl.  But what do Two-Fisted hitters do when this happens?  They glower at the pitcher for a moment, then jog to first with dignity.  And they DON’T TOUCH the spot that got hit.  Not touching the sore spot is the ultimate Two-Fisted rule.  And these are the ultimate Two-Fisted guys.

You Get The Idea…

For more quick reads, just watch for the shorts listed below. They’re coming to this site. And more will be added all the time, so check back often. It only takes a minute. Actually, a little less. New shorts will include:

Big and Two-Fisted (58 seconds)

Teddy of the Jungle (52 seconds)

Pina What? (50 seconds)

Tastes Like Bird (56 seconds)

Two Kinds of Guys (49 seconds or 55 seconds, depending…)

Skunk Heaven (55 seconds)

Everglades Kites and Slime Food  (54 seconds)

Birdsong (57 seconds)

Love in a Minute (60 seconds)

Friend or Enemy (55 seconds)

You’ve seen our shorts. Now let’s see yours.

These three are just the start. Each is a little tidbit of something or other. Maybe there’s a bird-watching angle. Maybe not. Point is, there’s always a Two-Fisted perspective. And there’s always the shortness. You can read these things in under a minute. Not exactly as short as a tweet (a word we’re not entirely comfortable with–and we’re into birds!). But short enough to provide a quick read. Enjoy. And come back for more. We’ve got plenty of under-a-minute shorts to post here. Plus, we’ll put yours here, too. Just send them in (under 160 words, please) by using the contact page or the comment box below. Reading can be fun, but sometimes you just want it quick.

This is a continuation of our “Shorts” page. If you haven’t seen the original, take a look. It explains how we learned that some people like reading short things instead of long ones. Out of this knowledge came a newspaper column called “Got a Minute.” Same logic has to apply to stories on a website, right? So, here you go: A bunch of Two-Fisted Birdwatcher “Shorts.” And each takes less than a minute. Time ‘em; you’ll see.

“The Boss’s Birthday” (60 Seconds)

We came across a quote by Bruce Springsteen the other day, and it struck a chord. This guy, who’s called The Boss by his fans, said, “You write the song just for yourself, but it’s no good unless you play it for somebody else.” Why mention this on a site called Two-Fisted Birdwatcher? Two obvious things come to mind. First, Springsteen’s a two-fisted guy, so he belongs here. Second, birds sing but it doesn’t do them much good in terms of mating or defense unless somebody hears. But neither of those things is why we liked his quote. Here’s the real reason: Our little website is an example of just what he’s talking about. We write essays, stories, observations, jokes, the whole thing, for ourselves. We need to get this stuff down. But it’s no good unless you see it. Like you’re doing, right now.

“Big and Two-Fisted” (59 Seconds)

Two-fisted bird watchers, say six-nine, 300 pounds, have a Darwinian advantage over the rest of us. We know this. They know it. Everybody knows it, which is somewhat embarrassing. Big guys can handle regular guys in a fight. But better, they can prevent a fight. You’re birding with your buddy, a gentle soul who’s six-nine and a half. In the middle of nowhere some local hero in boots and tats makes a remark about your binoculars. One thing leads to another and maybe a little shoving’s about to start. Then your buddy clomps over in his size fourteen hiking boots and you all know the fight will never happen. It’s the way of the world, the common sense of wild places and the law of the jungle. Bigness rules. Size matters. Might makes right. We instinctively know this. Does this mean two-fisted bird watchers are lucky they’re big? Yeah, it does.  And if we’re friends with one, we’re lucky, too.

“Pina What?” (54 Seconds)

A tropical drink is not a two-fisted drink. Sorry.  It comes in a fancy tall glass or maybe in a hollowed out coconut.  There’s a flamboyant wedge of pineapple and a cherry on top.  And don’t forget the little paper umbrella.  Not two-fisted things.  One problem: The drink tastes pretty damn good.  A mix of tropical fruits frozen like a milk shake, and laced with rum.  These flavors suggest the wild calls of jungle Cockatoos, Scarlet Ibis and Keel-billed Toucans. You can even get 151 proof rum that will knock you on your butt.  But still, you just don’t feel right about holding the frilly glass and sipping from it. You just can’t order it.  So you get a two-fisted beer, and laugh at the other, more delicate drinkers as they twirl their little umbrellas.  They might not hear you laughing, though.  Not over their own laughter.

“Skunk Heaven” (56 Seconds)

Your dog’s your birding pal. Way better than a birding club. Just you and him, a great team. One May morning you’re looking for warblers and have seen a Black-Throated Blue (first time for you), several Black & Whites and you’re hearing a Yellow-Breasted Chat when your dog finds a skunk and the world changes. The skunk sprays chemical hell into your dog’s face.  That’s not the worst part. Your dog LIKES it. This dog, who will now smell skunky for a year, LIKES it. No backing away. He gets an “I’m in heaven” look, inhaling deeply. The mutt’s in ecstasy. Since a dog’s nose is countless times more sensitive than ours, why do dogs LIKE bad smells?  They roll in dead squirrels and goose droppings. They wear odors proudly, like medals.  You don’t have to explore jungles, dive under the sea, or go to other planets to find the weird.  It sleeps at the foot of your bed.

“Everglades Kites and Slime Food” (60 Seconds)

The Everglades Kite likes snails. It’s got a unique bill to gouge them out of their shells. This kite is getting rarer because the snails it eats are getting scarce as the Everglades shrink. If the Kite’s missing dinner, it’s understandable. What’s not understandable to two-fisted  food lovers is why humans eat snails. Slugs with shells! They move by sliding on mucus.  The mucus comes from inside, right?  So when we eat snails, we’re eating their little mucus organs, along with spare mucus, right?  We’re not Everlgades Kites. This is a pretty unfathomable food choice for us, considering that we’re brainy animals and all that. Why would we eat a mucus slug? The answer: marketing. Marketing utilizes the power of a stylish description: Escargots. This fancy French word gives snails a mystique akin to the mystique enjoyed by foreign films, which can also be unfathomable.  Maybe we need subtitles with our gourmet pretensions. Let’s leave Escargots for the hungry Everglades Kites and order a pizza.

“Whoa. That looks familiar.” (59 Seconds)

We were in the mountaineering outfitter store, Erewhon, recently, looking for a new pair of binoculars. And there on the counter was our Two-Fisted Birdwatcher logo, mounted in a plastic stand. What?

How’d our logo become a sign? A while back, we ran off some posters at Kinko’s and dropped them off at the mall, just for the hell of it. They got pinned to bulletin boards in Starbucks, mainly. And I guess Erewhon got one. This store puts up all kinds of posters.

But we had no intention of having it inserted into a clear plastic stand and displayed to tout binoculars. We’re not in the binocular business, or any business, for that matter. We’re just in the business of writing about birds, nature, ideas and fun. But now that we see it being used that way, we gotta say, it was an unexpected kick. Glad we had our camera phone handy.

Shorts From Readers…

The Two-Fisted Birdwatcher is a two-way street. We invited readers to share their shorts with us, and they have. Below are a few recent examples. Got something two-fisted to say? Send it in. Maybe there’s a bird-watching angle. Maybe not. Just try to keep it under 160 words. Use the link below, or our contact page. Meanwhile, here’s what Tara, Mr. Peterson (yeah, that sounds real) and Pandy wrote.

“Hearings” (60 Seconds)

By Tara

I would like to read about “hearings” just as much as “sightings”.  I am new to this site, so maybe there are articles already written here about the sounds of the birds, and I just have not discovered them yet.

Regardless, every morning I wake around, oh, five-ish, I guess… you know… right before the sun comes up.  And I hear the most wonderful bird callings.  I wish that I could identify the sound to the bird.  My most favorite is when I hear a near-distant call, and then half-a-minute later, I hear the distinct call again from a far-distance.  And this goes on for about a half hour or so…   I love it…   but I do not know what kind of bird it is.  I think it is an owl, but not sure.

How wonderful it is to wake up in the morning listening to birds calling to each other from far distances!  I love it.

“Beatles: Bird Food For Thought” (58 Seconds)

By “Mr. Peterson”

The Beatles were into birds. Not in a geeky ornithological way. They wrote “Blackbird,” during the civil rights movement. On that record, a bird impressionist whistles the sound of a true British Blackbird, a member of the thrush family. Two-fisted bird watchers – we notice these things. There’s also the sarcastic, “And Your Bird Can Sing,” the bird being a swingin’ Sinatra who famously beat the Beatles at the Grammys. There’s “NorwegianWood (This Bird Has Flown,)” where the protagonist fails to conquer an elusive English chick. Later, John sang a self-referential “Free As A Bird,” from the grave in the 1995 reunion single. Let’s review: a “bird,” refers to blacks, girls, Frank Sinatra, and the Beatles themselves. Except for Paul, who was a walrus – John clearly states that in “Glass Onion:” “…the walrus was Paul.” Then again, what did Paul name his band after the Beatles broke up? Hmm.

“We Clever Chicks…” (42 Seconds)

By Pandy

Gentlemen, not all birders are of your species…unless you’re just considering the one with opposable thumbs.  We, who don’t wear “shorts”…not even on the golf course, where “birdies” are highly desired…wish to make our presence known (as though you could ignore the female…with her duller colors….I think not).

We clever chicks, with our designer vests and fabulous eye for color and composition, are out and about with fantastic cameras and discerning ears for warbles in pitches you won’t notice when there is ambient noise.  We may or may not know the name, genus and species of what we’re observing…but our appreciation is great and our memory long.  Lead on, gentlemen….show us what you’ve got…..