Wickersham's Conscience

Birders may love birds, but a lot of birders love lists, too. You have your life list (all the bird species you’ve seen in your life), your state list (the species seen in one state), your year list and more. Yesterday, I put a new species on my Alaska State list, a female Purple Martin, spotted by Nick Hadjuokovich and I at South Cushman Ponds early in the afternoon.

It’s not a rarity – George West describes it as a “casual spring and summer visitant” in his A Birder’s Guide to Alaska, but it was a first for me.

And surprisingly hard to photograph. A jet-speed swallow, bigger with longer wings. It tied me in knots, allowing me only a few, greyish shots. Which I offer here only as proof of sighting, not as art.

Oddly, I was there for the second time that day. My second trip was in response to Nick’s call about a possible Long-toed Stint, which would have been a true lifer, and an extremely cool bird. But it turned out to be a Least Sandpiper, a nice bird but a regular. Only when a flock of Cliff Swallows (with a few Violet-Greens and Banks mixed in) came by to harvest the on-going hatch did we spot the Purple Martin. A nice treat.

Last night Greg Brown was the The Blue Loon just outside of Fairbanks. Tickets were pricey, and as a venue, the Loon leaves a great deal to be desired. Air-conditioning, comfortable seating and decent acoustics, to name just three things. But when Greg Brown is performing, those things matter a lot less than they might otherwise.

He opened with a brand new song – which included a stanza on Alaska – and followed with another new one, this one involving getting old and fat. And that set the pattern for the evening: old favorites mixed with new songs, or at least songs that were new to me. The oldies included a killer version of “Brand New ’64 Dodge” with its ominous “November 1963″ chorus; a melancholy version of the sweet “Canned Goods,” perhaps better known as “Grandma put it all in a jar,” and the politically incorrect “Jesus & Elvis.” Although he was on stage by himself, with an open-tuned Gibson guitar, the full range of his talents was on display. Political rants, talking blues, deeply emotional ballads, Blake poems set to music; this guy is a national treasure and I very much wish I could see him more often.

A minor complaint: my favorite Greg Brown album is “Dream Cafe.” I’ve seen Greg live five times now. And he hasn’t done a single song from that great album. Someday.

I understand a compendium of Greg’s music will be out in July called, ironically, “Dream City: Essential Tracks, 1997-2006.” And it will include a bunch of new live tracks. I can’t wait.

It was a great show, Greg; come back soon.