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.His patience had been rewarded near dusk on the second day.The sight of the stocky black-and-white male and his dark brown mate gliding over the shrubby willows at the edge of the lake to land on the wet pewter surface had erased the aching from his cramped limbs and made the long wait of little consequence.He had not been born with that kind of patience, but he had learned it as a necessary skill for success as a serious birder.And he had found the same stoicism practical in everyday life.He knew his daughter thought him cold and callous.He didn’t have the energy to explain to her that he saw no point in becoming overly emotional and fretting.Wringing his hands or storming about wouldn’t help her locate her boy.He was sorry to hear Casey was missing.Though he hadn’t seen the boy in a few years, he remembered his youngest grandson as a thoughtful, intelligent boy who’d shown an interest in birds and the ability to sit still for long periods of time, contemplating the world around him.Martin thought he had the potential to be a big lister, if he applied himself.He moved the mouse to click on the desktop icon to open his e-mail account.The stroke had temporarily in capacitated him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t stay abreast of news in the birding world.Besides, focusing on birds was calming.There was order and logic in the neatly aligned spreadsheets of birds he had seen and birds he had yet to see, deep satisfaction in the number of sightings on each continent, in each country, and within each genus.Reading through these familiar lists would be a welcome distraction from worries about one boy who was currently un accounted for.But first, the e-mail.ABA recognizes Cackling Goose.His interest sharpened when he spotted this header, and he clicked on the message.He’d been waiting for this one after hearing rumors for the past six months.Birds that were previously considered sub species were sometimes awarded full species status, thus adding to the total of species in existence.His hand shook as he scrolled through the press release a birding acquaintance had pasted into the e-mail.The Canada Goose, Branta canadensis, had been split into large and small species, the smaller birds now being designated B.Hutchinsii, Cackling Goose.Quickly, he shrank the e-mail file and opened his spreadsheet for North American birds.Triumph surged through him as he verified that he had seen both versions of geese at various times and locations.This allowed him to add the new bird to his life list.He leaned toward the keyboard, straining to control his movements, to type in the new name beneath the original species.Working one-handed was laborious; several times he had to erase what he’d written and start over.By the time he sat back and studied the new entry, sweat beaded his forehead and he was breathing heavily.His gaze dropped to the new total at the bottom of the spreadsheet.Seven thousand, nine hundred and fifty.He might reach eight thousand yet, even if his health forced him to give up traveling.New species were added every year.In the last year he’d added almost a dozen to his count.Long-dead big listers continued to add to their records through this process.Still, accumulating sightings this way was not the same as seeing new birds for himself.He scrolled through the list, each name bringing to mind a successful hunt.He’d sighted the King Eider on a miserable cold day when the fog had settled around their party of both serious and casual birders like a shroud.The others in the group retired to a pub to banish the chill with pints of beer and glasses of malt whiskey.But he’d insisted on staying outside, willing the bird to come to him.It had arrived like an apparition out of the mist, the ink-black body sharp against the gray fog, the orange shield above its bill brilliant against the bright blue crest.Martin held his breath, immobile, transfixed by this glimpse of the divine.Was it so far-fetched to think that a creature with wings was one step lower than the angels?The King Eider was the fourth new species he’d added to his list that day.Number 3,047.In those days, he’d seen four thousand birds as a lofty goal to attain.Only later, when he’d passed four thousand and was closing in on five thousand, did he begin to think of reaching for more.Of trying to do what almost no one before him had done.When he’d joined the others in the pub, they had groaned at the news of the sighting, and cursed his luck even as they bought him drinks.No one questioned that he had actually seen the bird
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