Bon soir, dear readers.
I have arrived at last in Rochester, of the Minnesotan variety. I can’t be too clever or witty today because I waited too damn long to write this post and now I’m too tired to care much. I can’t express how glad I am that I jotted down a couple of noteworthy things on my cannyphone, because at this point all I can remember about the day without exerting too much effort is that it’s really hot in my hotel room.
The day started off with a startling discovery. The famous Fargo humidity had transformed my hair from slightly wavy to the monstrosity you see to your left. I include this picture for you, dear readers, to hopefully infuse some humor into your day, as the ambient moisture was infused into my sentient coiffure, the strands of which were reawakened by the humectation much like a sample of desiccated Selaginella.
After surviving a harrowing encounter with a waffle iron that I was only barely able to escape from, the final leg of the trip began.
When we disembarked from the S.S. Fargo, the sky was exactly the opposite of the sky I fell asleep to. It was every bit as enormous, but instead of ominous, vindictive black it was an auspicious, forgiving blue. There was not a single wisp of high-altitude water in sight, and I couldn’t have picked a more perfect day to sojourn across Minnesota, the state whose name is derived from a Dakota word meaning “sky-tinted water” (a truly poetic sentiment). Also known as the land of 10,000 lakes, we had ample opportunity to view said tinted waters, and they were absolutely spectacular. I really don’t think I’ve ever seen that shade of blue in nature before. Fortunately, these numerous lakes/ponds/puddles provided perfect habitats for wading shorebirds and waterfowl, giving me all sorts of new birds to add to my list! But I’ll come to that later.
The roadside attractions today included, according to my cannyphone, the “Chainsaw Man Sculpture Gallery”, and lots of corn. Well, ‘lots of corn’ doesn’t really do it justice. Perhaps ‘many moles of corn’ is appropriate, if we equivalize molecules in the traditional definition with square kilometres. Corn is apparently a central theme of Minnesotan identity, as evidenced by this tower near downtown Rochester.
My patience with uploading media is nearing its end, so I’ll simply inform you that I purchased nutriment at one Hasty Diner, and you’ll just have to take me on my word. You’ll also have to accept that there is a thriving metropolis by the name of Fergus Falls somewhere between Fargo and Rochester. Perhaps, one day, if you’re very good, I’ll share with you grainy and underexposed images proving that these locales exist beyond a shadow of a doubt.
As usual, I’ll end off with a list of the birds I whizzed by today. There was an abundance of Great Egrets (to my great enjoyment) and Snowy Egrets; many Great Blue Herons; a couple of adult Little Blue Herons (probably a couple of juveniles mixed in with the egrets as well); at least 100 White Pelicans (no exaggeration, there were flocks of them everywhere (though they were mostly concentrated around Pelican Falls, if you can believe it)); and Trumpeter Swans. It’s a short list, sadly missing any orioles, but happily including a whole bunch of big birds that eat fish. I was concentrating harder on grooving to the classic rock tunes today than I was on birdwatching, to my eternal Egret (har har har). With that horrific pun, I bid you adieu.
(Yes yieu. And yieu and yieu and yieu.)