The alarm clock rings at 2:30 a.m., ending a fitful night of sleep and beginning the grope
to find the clothes you laid out the night before. Your headlights steer you in a
northwesterly direction for a hundred miles in the darkest part of a winter's new moon.
Arriving at the refuge, long before the first light of dawn, you are laden with photo gear,
stepping gingerly through the semi-frozen marsh to find a location among the reeds. You
settle in, breath hanging in the air, fingers nearly frozen as you fumble to set up your camera.
You make the best possible "nest" to blend into the environment, trying to be as comfortable
as possible for what will be a long, silent vigil. Remaining motionless for hours, the pastel
hues of blue and magenta begin to paint the western horizon as you hear the first solitary
honking from above. This is the kind of morning you live for.
This is Jerry's World