I have landed in Dallas and am waiting for my connecting flight to McAllen. In the down time I just read Bill of the Birds blog and have discovered that he got caught in a massive traffic jam and missed his flight. (on a side note, read the previous post for more about our karaoke adventures). Hopefully he will get to Texas soon.

My fist Texas bird this trip is a rock pigeon--joy of joys.

I'm trying to scope out the rest of the crowd around me to see if any are birders. No vests and no khaki so that leads me to believe I am the only birder present. I'm dreadfully overdressed for Texas. We had one heck of a wind storm kick up last night and the 39 degree weather this morning felt like 29. Of course it's eighty here some I'm regretting pants. I do have a skirt tucked and sandals tucked away in my carry ons so as soon as we land at the final destination, I'm changing.

Oh! I think I just spotted a birder: older guy (not that there's anything wrong with that), khaki pants, a back that looks suspiciously like it could be holding a spotting scope. The only think throwing me is the very shiny penny loafers, birders tend to wear more weather worn shoes.

Another possibility just sat down: older lady, khaki pants and shirt, well worn tennis shoes and furtively looking out the window while she nibbles her sandwich. I don't think she's watching planes, I'm pretty sure she's scanning for potential birds. The only thing that is keeping me from feeling confident in my call that she is a birder is that she isn't wearing a vest. Anyone wearing a many pocketed vest (willingly in public) is usually the dead give away--it's almost as reliable as the flap-flap-glide of an accipiter.

Hot Dog! Just found an official birder: older woman, khaki pants, incredibly sensible shoes--somewhat worn, green shirt, VEST, and to top it all of one of those wide-brimmed naturalist hats with little bird pins adorning the top of the hat. Ladies and gentleman, we have a birder.