Camp Dispicable

   We left Grand Junction Colorado and toured nearby Colorado National Monument 6 days ago. It has been that long since being able to get online. This is a place we must return to.

   It was across the border into Utah where we stayed the night in Green River State Park. The plan was to go to Great Basin National Park just over the Nevada border and spend a couple days there. When we arrived, like at Glacier National Park, we learned we were up against a size restriction for travelling the road past the lower campground. Sadly there was no hiking among the Bristlecone Pines for me and we left the next day.
   Now we were ahead of ourselves so I planned a stop at Hickison Petroglyphs Camp midway across Nevada on Hwy 50, the "Loneliest Highway in America". I have stayed there several times in the past. It is pretty, quiet, sometimes having the entire campground of 11 free sites all to myself, and the night skies are just spectacular. We arrived around noon and tried to enjoy the rest of the day in the shade. For some reason though the flies and other pesky flying bugs were particularly bothersome. My wife tried to stay inside until the heat forced her out, where she then tried to endure the irritating insects as long as she could. Meanwhile I couldn't help thinking we should have kept on driving. As the afternoon crawled by, the flies continued their relentless quest and I began to beat myself up for stopping so early in the day. Now it seemed too late to drive with it being hours to nowhere.
  A couple cars came up the dirt road to view the petroglyphs and moved on. Two campers drove in, one an RV like ours and the other a couple in a VW bus, but oddly they did not stay. It was now past 4 pm and I am really upset with myself. My wife, the trooper that she is, perseveres without a complaint and I became more disgusted with my poor decision. I decided to take a walk and use the pit toilet bathroom. The one near our camp was littered with rodent droppings on the cement porch. Inside it was just as bad. Even I drew the line on peeing in there so I walked on up to the next pit toilet. This one was even worse. The cement was barely visible but for the covering of rat turds. The flies were thick, escaping in a cloud when I opened the door. I moved on up to the main restroom at the parking area for the petroglyph trail. This was the cleanest of the lot, and at that, it was still dirty but I used it anyway as I didn't have to stand on rat crap to do so.
   Just then, the one and only other camper staying there returned having been away all the while we'd been here. The camp was a trailer and tent set-up which had all the appearances of someone "living" here. The driver looked to be one of the highway workers and he came barrelling down the road in cloud of dust with Karen Carpenter singing as loud as the 8-track in his beat-up old Ford truck could manage. He slid to a stop at his camp, plopped down in a camp chair, beer in hand, filthy dirty and Karen was still carrying on with both truck doors wide open.
   I returned to our camp, opened the screen door and my wife gazed at me with a numb look about herself. I described what I just experienced with the restrooms and concluded this is why all the flies and why the other campers did not stay. As Karen broke in to a new song "We've only just begun..." I said to my wife, "That's it! Let's get out of here.I don't care how long I drive." Her face lit up like a death row prisoner who had just been granted a pardon.
   We drove on at 70 miles an hour (I usually putt along at 57) into the setting Nevada sun for over an hour when I nearly blew by a brand new (to me) camp opportunity.

They had camping in the back and here we stayed as evening set in. I didn't recognize it as this day just happened to be their one year anniversary of being open after having burned down a few years back. It was all new, very nice and we had smiles on our faces once again.

Leaving the burned gas pumps and charred tree stump was a nice touch.

They have no interest in selling gas again.

This was the only thing familiar to me, the pony express riders out front as this was a stop on the old Pony Express Route of 1860. Before, Cold Springs was just a bar where you could get something to eat and fill up with gas. Now they have several little cottages to stay in plus RV/trailer camping. Inside the bar, restaurant and gift shop was all bright, new and wonderful. This is a great place to stop and stay the night if you are in the middle of nowhere Nevada on Highway 50, the "Loneliest Highway in America" even if you are not running from flies and Karen Carpenter.*

We arrived home the next day after visiting 10 states and travelling 4353 miles doing so.
We now are cleaning up the Little House on the Highway and have hundreds (thousands for my wife) of photos to organize.

*We both like Karen Carpenter but this wasn't the appropriate time. My apologies. Sorry Karen.

You Know You're in Nebraska When...

...this is pretty much all you see for landscape scenery

you really like the price of diesel fuel but have to go inside to ask what "off road diesel" is,

(I mean do they have off-road racing with special race-equipped diesel 4x4's?)

(I learned it was for tractors and combines...duh),

and you go to buy a can of soda pop and end up with a handful of fishing worms.

But we really liked the state a lot for what we got to see. We drove down the western portion which I am not sure if they call it the panhandle as is done with Oklahoma and Texas. Nebraska is full of history of the early pioneers who followed the Platte River heading west on the Oregon, California and Mormon trails. We retraced their route but going the wrong direction, east. At Ogallala we turned southwest into Colorado to finally begin our journey home. We'll be back Nebraska.

Today it was a matter of getting past Denver and over the Rocky Mountains. It turned out to be nothing at all. A piece of cake for the Little House on the Highway. Going over the High Sierras in California is a harder pull, just a lot shorter to do. We are now in Grand Junction Colorado and like Prineville Oregon and their big Harley fest, we timed it just right for here in Grand Junction there is a big western region dog show going on at the fairgrounds next to us. I am anxious to see if the dog people know how to party better than the bikers did.

Buffalo-Bison?

 We really didn't care. We just wanted to see them.

   We were getting a bit concerned though for it wasn't until we were halfway through Custer State Park that we saw our first buffalo.  Actually the correct term is bison. Early explorers called them buffalo for the closest animal they knew of that looked like what they were seeing were the buffalo of Africa and Asia. But if you refer to them as American Buffalo, that is acceptable.

   We came up to the tail-end of a herd that had just crossed the road and settled into the nearby valley to graze. At first we had to be content with some long distance shots. Then after most of the cars that stopped pulled away (we are always the last to leave) some stragglers came by and we were able to get some closer shots. Between the two of us we must have shot a couple hundred times, I am talking camera shots. 150 years ago it would have been gunshots but I'll not get into that, nor what we would have seen at that time right now.  We were quite happy to say the least.

   A few miles further down the road we came up upon another group which was even closer. By now we felt very comfortable being around them and was able to get some better pictures having to ditch the zoom telephoto lenses for our normal lens as they were so close.

   They really are gentle creatures no more different than being around dairy cows. By the end of the day and the following day as we were driving along we found ourselves saying "Oh, it's just some more Bison." 

   But we stopped anyway.

   We are in Nebraska now, learning about corn.

Crazy Horse and Mt. Rushmore

Simply put, we were overwhelmed.

So much has changed since we were last here some 35 years ago, that is except for the monument itself. Pretty much the face alone is the most noticeable difference. We thought more would be done and now we know we'll not see the completed work in our lifetime. There is now a two theater orientation center with a conference hall and education center, Indian Museum with three wings, gift shops too numerous to mention (I lost count of the rooms and got lost also), restaurant and snack shop, the sculptor's log home, workshop and studio, Indian cultural center and so much more. When we were here last, there was just a one room visitor center that was probably the size of the present day snack shop alone. My head was spinning when we left on the four lane entry/exit road which was just a gravel road before.

But if Crazy Horse blew us away, words cannot describe the impact Mt Rushmore had on us. It too has equally changed so drastically since our last visit. We didn't recognize one aspect of it from before (neither would have Cary Grant - Alfred Hitchcock's North by Northwest) except for the monument itself. In fact, we had a hard time finding our way around just to locate where we once viewed the rock sculptures 30 some years ago, even if it still existed. Finally I noticed a small sign "Historical viewing area" and followed the staircase down through the pines to the now vacant platform.

The trees have now grown to obscure the view. Everywhere you walked was on this smooth polished granite. It was not like that back when.

All the buildings, gift shops, museum, visitor center, restaurant, everything has been rebuilt with this granite which is not even native to the area. It all came from Minnesota. It was beautiful, impressive and seemed so out of place in the natural setting of the mountain forest landscape.

There is even now a huge amphitheater below the "Grand Viewing Terrace" where they have summer evening light shows on the mountain carving. Take note of the speakers and array of lights beneath them. Try to imagine how many people this place seats. There were more rows of seating on levels behind me. I am sure it is impressive and a sight to behold but as my wife said to me "It's like when they took King Kong out from his natural environment and placed him on display in New York with all the lights and ceremony."
I could have put it any better.

As we were leaving my wife said to me "Did you see that young man who just passed us? He had the biggest smile on his face. He was really enjoying seeing this. It's probably his first time." And for that, all of the changes were just fine with us.

It was a really gusty and windy day all day long since we left camp at Devils Tower Wyoming. At Crazy Horse we were bitterly cold. By the time we arrived at Mt. Rushmore I think we were just wind-blown tired. Both places you definitly should go see, if you are ever in the Black Hills of south Dakota.

Devils Tower National Monument

   We stayed two nights here at Devil's Tower as the weather was so nice and we could use a day off from driving. Most of the time was spent chasing Red Squirrels, Mountain Bluebirds and Black-tailed Prairie Dogs trying to get their picture. And honestly, all of them were very cooperative in having their picture taken.

   Today we will travel further east into the Black Hills of South Dakota and check in on a few places like Rushmore and Crazy Horse to see how things have changed since we were last there thirty-some years ago. We got a report from lady who just came from Custer State Park which is south of there and she said there were lots of Buffalo to be seen. We would love to get some pictures of them.

   It is windy today and suppose to be quite so most of the day so progress may be slow but that is okay, we're in no hurry. The picture above is not mine. The Internet connection is so bad here I could not get my pictures to load up but at least wanted those who do not know, what Devils Tower looks like. We hiked around the tower taking 2 hours to do so and it is only 1.3 miles. So you can imagine how much photo stalking we were doing.

   More later.

Little Bighorn Battlefield

Here is one of those places we all know about and for me, never really thought of making a point of going to see, unlike Billy the Kid's grave (if you've been following my blog during the Texas trip you know what I mean). In fact, it wasn't even thought of before the trip. But I found ourselves in the neighborhood, saw it on the map, and took advantage of the opportunity.

Pretty cool! Try as I might, standing there looking all around the golden grass covered hills, it was really difficult to visualize what took place here 135 years ago.

The visitor center was excellent filled with a lot of artifacts found at the site, a wealth of information about participants on both sides of the battle and a ton-load of books to choose from to buy. Way too many for me to consider so I just walked away with the brochure the Park Service handed out.

It was nice to see a memorial for the Indians who lost their lives in the battle. In fact, there even was one for the horses also, just to the left of the pillar on the hill where most of them are buried. The site was formerly called Custer Battlefield National Monument and was changed in 1991 to it's present name of Little Bighorn Battlefield so as to give the Indians equal representation. Red granite markers of known Cheyenne and Lakota warrior causality sites are throughout the battlefield. These markers would have the warrior's name, "Died here on June 25, 1876 defending his homeland and the Sioux way of life". 

I left feeling bad for the Indians. Although they won this battle, they lost the war, their homeland and their way of life as the markers noted. I too felt bad for the soldiers for they didn't want to be there, they were just following orders. This goes too for the officers, just following orders.

Tomorrow we will be in Wyoming and will see where the road takes us.

What's next?

Thursday was Sinbad's 11th birthday...around about. Actual date is unknown so we picked the 15th.

Hey, I was finally able to get a picture through so I'll use this opportunity to update after we left Glacier National Park.

We stayed at a forest service camp outside Glacier, then spent the next two days heading east then south through Montana. The drive reminded me a lot of that long long drive through the west plains of Texas and I enjoyed every mile of it, all 461 of them. The flat plains of Montana though is not as dry as Texas and thus, a bit more productive. A lot of wheat fields. Currently we are in Billings Montana staying at what is "The World's First KOA". Yes, this is where it all began and we stayed here just to say we did. It is quite nice too right along the Yellowstone River which is directly behind us.

Today a stop to see where Captain William Clark of the Lewis and Clark Expedition left some graffiti. He carved his name into a rock face of a sandstone butte overlooking the Yellowstone River. Then on to the site of the Little Bighorn Battlefield where General Custer and company bought the ranch. Afterwards, on into Wyoming and whatever we may find there. No real plan. There never is.

Glacier National Park

"We're here! Yippee!"

   We've been told this is exceptionally good weather for this area. Also we find the skies are clear of smoke we've seen for the last few days further south from lightning caused fires. What more could we ask for? At the end of the day we can say Glacier National Park was wonderful...all 15 miles of it. I'll explain.
   After stopping for espressos and lemon poppy seed muffins just outside the park entrance, we fell in line to a ten car or so back-up to the kiosk booth. A ranger lady met us half way and said "Welcome to Glacier National Park. Now you know you are to big to drive all the way through the park over Logan Pass."
   "Huh?!"
   Of all the reading I did beforehand, I sure do not recall seeing any size restrictions regarding driving the Going-to-the-Sun Road. 21 feet long (we're 25) and 10 feet high (we're 6 inches over that) is the vehicle size limits due to narrow rock walls on one side and straight off on the other, and some areas have rock jutting out and over, thus the 10 feet height limit. She tells us we are able to drive 15 miles in along Lake McDonald to the last turn-around for over-sized vehicles at Avalanche creek.
   I entertained the thought of driving around the park the next day and come in through the East Entrance. We stopped at the Visitor Center for more information.
   Ranger Cathy said that 4 miles of the road to the East Entrance is too narrow for us and we would have to take a detour of 24 miles. Then after we reconnect to the main road, a 20 mile stretch is under construction and reports of long waits up to an hour have been reported. She advised another detour of indeterminable length. Finally we would be at the East Entrance where we could drive in for 18 miles before faced with a sign stating not to proceed any further if you are of a certain length. "But I have seen tour buses continue on as far as Logan Pass so you should be fine...[then she uttered those fateful words]...I think." We really did not need all this added adventure.
   But don't feel sorry for us. We enjoyed what we saw. Plus, had this not happened we would have been denied a wonderful wildlife experience few ever get... an up close bear encounter. More about that later once we return home. I'll say this much, my wife has waited all her life for that and for that alone Glacier National Park did not disappoint.
   So we came, we saw, and as I told my wife "We've had the main course, the rest from now on is dessert."

Normally I would include a picture but something is goofy with this connection and I've had to re-write the above again after losing it all so I don't want to risk it with pictures that won't load. Sorry.

Also some may say "Why didn't you take one of those tour buses through the park?" It really didn't appeal to us to be herded like cattle, looking out the window at all the places we would have otherwised stopped at to take pictures for the length of time that we normally do. We have no regrets.

Making Progress

   The Harleyfest in Prineville did not live up to it's expectations. I woke up sometime in the middle of the night and it was as quiet as a graveyard. These bikers don't know how to party.  We went  through the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument, one of those places I have always wanted to go see for way too many years but was never in the neighborhood. The terrain wasn't as I suspected it to be - bleak and desolate high Oregon desert. Instead imagine the Painted Desert with forest all around and that pretty much describes most of it. The Tom Condon Paleontology and Visitor Center was worth the price of admission alone (everything was free) and a must see if you do nothing else at the the fossil beds. That night we stayed in one of Oregon's outstanding State Park campgrounds, Clyde Holliday.
   The next night was at Washington's Lewis and Clark Trail State Park. It was not as glamorous as the name implies. In fact I think Lewis and Clark had a much better campsite. This place was run-down. Each site was a dusty spot along the road surrounded by a dense overgrown jungle that rivaled the Darien Gap of Panama. One would thought the two boys and their Discovery Corps had built the restrooms had it not been for the plumbing which wasn't around in 1805. Okay, so these are hard times and as the campground host told us, Washington is in a bad way financially, just like California I guess. Plus we were a bit spoiled by this point. But we paid $22 to camp in both Oregon and Washington State Parks and there is a world of difference. Oh, the shower stories of each my wife could tell. Like night and day. Oregon is doing something right.
   From there we headed east on Highway 12 which so happens to be the route Lewis and Clark took on their eastward trek home after leaving the mouth of the Columbia River. Being surrounded with all the Lewis and Clark history I am realizing as I drive along "This is one facet of U.S. History I've not read much about". We camped at a U.S. Forest Service camp (light years ahead of that Washington park) midway along the Lewis and Clark Highway a Wild Scenic River Corridor. That night I thought to myself "I need to buy a book about the Lewis and Clark expedition.

It went on like this for 123 miles. Did we ever get bored?

Nope.

   This morning we continued on and pulled off at the top of Lolo Pass for no other reason than I had to pee. There was a huge parking area and the newly constructed visitor center. In fact, workers were still painting preservative on the logs of the building and moving boulders about along the entry into the center. Inside I immediately saw a wall full of books, and no bathroom. I'm sure there was a bathroom somewhere but I was too excited. Off I went back to the RV for my money, go pee, then back inside the visitor center where I got my book. Meanwhile my wife had found the FREE hot chocolate machine. We were two happy campers.
   Tonight we are at a private campground just outside of Glacier National Park. There is lots more to tell but sorry, I have a book to read.

Perfect Timing

We left Lava Beds National Monument after a two night stay-over. When we arrived on Wednesday, only a few campers were there and we selected a campsite way off by itself. As it turned out this happened to be the primo camp spot of the campground. Someone even moved in while were were away, pulling our tag from the clip. He was evicted by the ranger. The morning we left we were approached by a man interested in the spot. I told him we were leaving in a hour but he better hurry as the claim jumper up the road had his eye on it. Meanwhile, two really old ladies came by and got into a discussion with the newcomer. By this time the newcomer had already paid for "our" spot and had begun moving in tent, chair, cooler while we sat there eating our breakfast. The two old women didn't let him come by it very easily but eventually sauntered off for easier prey. I later thought I should have auctioned off the site.

North we traveled through Bend, Oregon then veered northeast. It appeared we would be in the vast high desert lands of Oregon with no place to stay so I elected to do an early stop at the last town which would provide a place for us to clean up, charge up and wire up. That town was Prineville in Crook County that is, this weekend, hosting the Run to the Cascades motorcycle rally. Yippee! The one and only place to stay is the Crook County RV Park which is right smack dab next to the Crook County Fairgrounds where the event is taking place. I mean, we are like 200 yards away from the sound stage where rock bands play non-stop, 24 hours long, for the entire three day weekend. The good thing is the 9 foot tall stacked sound systems are pointed away from us and bikers do not go for Rap. Also, as the guard at the gate mentioned to me "This is Friday and the bands may take a break for a few hours tonight for there is a 'Brawl in the Barn' Ultimate Cage Fight being held in the Event Center tonight." Now there is a date-night opportunity to take the wife out on this evening.

So we are surrounded by bikers of only one sort - 99.9% of these people are on Harley Davidsons. Young, old, working, unemployed, retired, clean-cut, grungy, born-agains, you name it, all on Harley Davidson motorcycles. I like motorcycles. I've have had them most all my life. Still do. But I have never had a Harley. Not because I don't like them, but because EVERYONE has one! Where are these people's sense of individuality? "Ooh wow, my gas tank and fenders are red while yours are black." "Yeah, but I have more rivets and brads on my saddle bags and mud flaps than you do." I just don't get it.

Here is one of the .1%'ers who has some sense of individuality. He is two spaces down from us. Although I admire his creativity I wouldn't want it unless I could sell it.

I'm looking forward to him firing it up at 0'dark thirty tonight while I try to sleep.

Okay, so I am poking fun at these guys and gals, but this is their thing and good for them. They're having fun and enjoying each other's company. All seem to be nice folk. We're not talking outlaw biker gangs like the Hells Angles or Devil's Disciples here. This year's event is dedicated to all the brave men and women of our country who give of themselves and their families to serve in the military, police, fire and first responders on this the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. Sunday will have several Memorial Rides to chose from, a tribute to our veterans of foreign wars and those who lost their lives on 9/11.

Ride on!

Off To A Great Start

We got all packed and ready to go the day before. This morning it was all a matter of putting the cold stuff in and lock up the house. I went out early to fire up the refrigerator so it could start getting cold. Usually this takes a couple tries as air gets in the propane line, only this time it wouldn't start. I went outside, took the side cover off and saw the fire was going but the igniter kept going too thinking it hadn't lit, then everything shut down. Great! No refrigerator, no leaving. Well, as I told the neighbor when he walked by while I was fiddling with it "The good thing is, being retired I have all the time and not like my limited vacation time is being taken away by this. Plus, good this happened at home rather hundreds of miles into nowhere." I drove into town to an RV store, lucked out by them having a dust covered package sitting on the shelf with the correct thermo-coupler. I installed it in the parking lot and BINGO, we have ignition! I called my wife and told her it was fixed and we're going. We were rolling by noon.

We logged in 213 miles and stopped in 103 degree Redding at an RV park along the Sacramento River. When the lady checking us in asked if we had any dogs I mentioned no, just my pussy cat. "Could you set us up in a spot away from dogs if possible?" Sinbad likes to sit outside you know. So she made the effort and gave us #64. We pulled in, hooked up and the two of us sat on the step in the shade of the View drinking a beer while Sinbad sprawled out on the cement. Just then an RV a bit larger than us pulls in two spots down in direct line of our view. The middle-aged lady rolls out the driver side door and all Hell breaks loose as she beats back several barking and yapping dogs trying to follow her out. Great. We sip our beers and watch the show.

She plugs in the electrical cord, connects the water line and hooks up her poop tube, bare handed I might add. Then she brings out this short-legged hugely overweight belly dragging-the-cement dog for a pee. The poor pooch. She returns that dog to the RV and emerges with a large black poodle and a miniature black poodle that literally drags her at a jogging pace across the road. They do their peeing, she returns them to the RV and comes out with ANOTHER even larger black poodle, taking it over to the doggy area. By now this has become beyond merely amusing to us. As she brings back the second large poodle my wife says to me "If she comes out with another dog I'll pee my pants." I said no way. Unbelievably though, she does. This time it is an ankle-biting Pomeranian that after it does it's business she carries it back to the RV. Five dogs! We finished our beers imagining what it must be like inside that RV. The smell, scratched woodwork, torn and chewed cushions, dog hair everywhere, and...oh, my wife held it. She didn't pee her pants.

Later, on our way to the pool we mentioned the story to the RV park lady in the office, in a nice way, not complaining. She couldn't believe it. "She told me she had two dogs and a cat plus her mother." I told her I couldn't believe a cat could tolerate the mayhem inside that RV. That poor cat. The RV park lady apologized and offered us a spot along the river in the high-rent district but we stayed where we were. It was too hot for the dogs to be outside. They stayed inside with the AC chugging away.

And so, this is why I love road trips.

Macro Monday

Not your typical macro photo I know, but something different.
 It is a macro shot of my road map.

I am using this venue to announce we will be leaving tomorrow on a several week road trip that will ultimately lead us to Glacier National Park, one of only a few parks west of the Mississippi River that we have not visited. Afterwards we'll meander through the great plains of Montana, the Dakotas, Nebraska and wherever else the little red and black lines of the map takes us. As before, blog entries during this time will be at the mercy of weak wi-fi signals I can pirate from along the way. Hopefully I will return with files of photos to keep me going on the blog through the long winter months ahead.

 I just hope none of them will be of Sinbad standing in snow.

For more Macro Monday photos go to Lisas Chaos

SOOC Sunday

For those of you not regular followers of my blog, for the past few days I've been posting about a recent day trip out to Point Reyes National Seashore just above the San Francisco Bay near my home in Sonoma County. The entire day was bad light and thick with fog yet my photo program was able to salvage all the pictures for decent presentation. I am just simply impressed with what technology was able to do in "lifting the fog". Here are a few pictures, Straight Out Of the Camera. Go back to the last few blog entries to view the improved "after" photos.

I use Coral Paint Shop Pro X2 for all my photo fixin's,

EXCEPT these images. They are untouched.

There seems to be some confusion with some as to that point.

For more photos Straight Out Of the Camera click on Murrieta365

One-legged Willet

There is a sub-species of the Willet; it classified as the One-legged Willet.

Both species seemed to get along just fine with each other.

Here is a close-up of the One-legged Willet.

They are easier to get a picture of since they are unable to run.

Yet with the aid of their wings they do hop. Hop a lot I might add.

If you look closely, you can see the residual appendage on this bird, confirming that this sub-species at one time, thousands of years ago, did have two legs.

Biologists are unable to propose a theory as to why through evolution this one branch of Willets lost a leg.

Do not feel bad for the One-legged Willet though, for their abilities with that one leg is truly amazing.

Could you do this? Only if you are a ballerina, maybe.

Disclaimer: There is absolutely no truth to any of the above. 

A Flying Willet

Now that I know what he is, I just have to show more photos of him.

Plus I cannot resist the opportunity to have fun with his name.

 Willet to Houston, we have landed.

There may come more Willet posts. Be prepared just in case.

Yellow Tide

Although I was taking a picture of this Willet foraging in the ebb tide, I find the foam just as interesting.

Oops, run, run, run.

Here I enlarged the above photo so you can see those wings better.

My bird guide states "Stodgy and plain, the Willet looks boring until it flies showing off spectacular wings." I agree.

You may be impressed that I knew this was a Willet. Well truth is, I didn't even know there was such a bird as a Willet. Credit goes to my daughter who often helps me ID a bird before I post it saying something like it's a Flamingo.