A boy once lost his way in the world. A boy forgot. About the birds. The birds in the trees. The birds upon the sea. The birds ripe for Crushing.
Then one day, a boy spent much time with three nerds. Nerds who make blogs. One nerd was a Machine. One nerd Used to Hate Birds. The last nerd cared only for three things, all of which begin with the letter B.
The nerds helped a boy to remember. A boy remembered both the Joys and the deep Despairs that embody the noble act of Crushing. Many moons had passed since a boy had Crushed. Or made a blog. He had forgotten. He had lost his way.
Inspired by the nerds, a boy dusted off his Crusher. He followed the nerds through the heat and cold and blackflies and islands of Maine. A boy saw the Easternmost point of land in the United States of America. A boy ate lobsters whole. He drank whisky and played Pocket and did embarrassing things with his bellybutton.
What follows are the fruits of his labor.
|Unfortunately there are many Starlings in Maine. Prior to Crushing important birds, a boy needed something on which to practice. Pine Point Beach, ME.|
|The Great Black-backed Gull is a big gull. And a good bird. On this day, it was a Day Bird. Pine Point Beach, ME.|
|White-rumped Sandpipers prefer to be Crushed in the light of early morning. On this beach, a boy began to remember the old ways. Pine Point Beach, ME.|
|In the shadows of a Maine forest, a boy lured a Chestnut-sided Warbler to within spitting distance of the business end of his Crusher. Evergreen Cemetery, Portland ME.|
|It continued to approach, until it was Too Close For a boy To Crush. Evergreen Cemetery, Portland ME.|
|A Crushing was made of this Gray Catbird. It is such an enormously Artistic Crush that it very nearly appears to be Black and White. The holiest of all artistic forms. Biddeford Pool - East Point Sanctuary.|
|A boy believed it to be quintessential that this bird be literally hunted down, stalked, and ruthlessly Crushed, forse. Biddeford Pool, ME.|
|A boy perfected his Lure and Crush methods on the great plains of Maine. Where there are no Upland Sandpipers. Only Prairie Warblers. Kennebunk Plains, ME.|
|Art. A boy rediscovers. Black and White Warbler. In Black and White. Scarborough River Wildlife Sanctuary.|
|A boy agreed with several nerds that this bird was a Good Bird. Perhaps even the Bird Of The Trip. Spruce Grouse, Bold Coast, ME.|
|A boy's puffin porn, shared with the world. Machias Island.|
|The last bird that a boy remembers seeing in Maine. Just before the Whisky and Twerking and HJs and generally unspeakable behavior brought a close to the final act of a boy's time spent in Maine with his three nerds.|
For more on a boy's story in Maine, click the links of the three nerds at the top of this post. They will have undoubtedly made better Crushes, penned more eloquent prose, and been better than a boy in nearly every way. They are professional blog nerds, after all.