Today was another unbearably hot day. Perhaps not quite as hot as hell (I refer to, of course, the great state of Texas), but nasty, sticky, and windless. Scrubb and I decided to see if we could add any more warblers to our list, and we traveled to Beverly Shores in Indiana and Warren Dunes State Park in Michigan. Everyone else there was cooling off at the beach by the refreshing sixty-degree waters of lovely blue Lake Michigan, but no, we had to sweat to death in the nearby steamy woods and algae-covered swamps, by smelly, barely-moving sludgy brown rivers. We’re birders, dammit, and we go where the birds are, or in our case, aren’t. (They were probably hanging out at the lake, as any smart bird — or human — would.)

The only addition to the little year list turned out to be a sad little overheated CEDAR WAXWING, atop a dead, white tree, beak agape, and panting . . .

But we knew it was going to be hot, and so Scrubb, in his kindness, presented me with the official American Birding Association Polar Necktie. This is a wrap that’s filled with some kind of crap that when placed in water, turns into a tapioca-like consistency and swells up. This special material, which is left unidentified, is supposed to have a cooling effect, pulling heat from the body. I’m not sure if I felt any heat leaving my body, but the tie definitely left a nice slime ring around my neck. Maybe it needed to be soaked more, but the whole thing just felt like a piece of vaguely cool, slimy sausage — or perhaps it was more like having a pet tube worm from the ocean floor (a pet I wouldn’t really like) nestled around my neck. Scrubb, who has just read some H.P Lovecraft horror stories, nicknamed my slimy friend Cthulhu, after Lovecraft’s alien, tentacled, evil monster-god that lives under the sea. Well, I left Scrubb a little present in his car, too. He can deal with Mr. Slimy once he gets home. I wash my hands (and neck) of him.