I pushed forward through the crowd. I couldn’t get very far; no-one seemed to want to move. Everyone had settled firmly in places where they had a good viewing position. And all seemed determined to hold their place. The crowd was agog with soft sound, as we muttered amongst ourselves, each to his or her neighbour.

‘Can you see?’

‘No, I’m at the wrong angle.’

‘I thought I got a brief view, but I haven’t been able to focus yet.’

‘Where should I be looking? I can see a whole mass of them standing together; they all look the same to me.’

‘I think I can see him. Is that him on the left?’

There was the usual hesitant strange voice in the crowd. ‘I’m sorry, I’m a beginner—what should I be looking for? What does he look like?’

A rather more authoritative voice spoke above the others. ‘He’s almost out of sight at the moment. Those of you on the left might be able to see a little more of him. He’s the small one that’s nearly hidden, just behind the big grey one towards the left centre. He’s smaller than all the others. All you can see at the moment is his dark cap, above the shoulder of the tall one in front.’

Our crowd stirred and sighed. Those on the right side of it pushed gently against those to their left. One or two stepped back out of the crowd and scuttled around the back to the left, hoping to find a better place to look from. Every eye was focused on the dark sliver that was all we could see of the one we had travelled dozens or in some cases hundreds of miles to see.

The confident voice spoke again. ‘Be careful! We don’t want to spook them. They’re all watching us very closely. We don’t want them all to leap up, and then settle somewhere else.’

‘What are they looking at?’ someone asked.

‘Daft question,’ muttered a voice behind me.

‘I was actually wondering that,’ I said.

The loud one glanced at me. ‘From where I stand, they may be looking at you,’ he said. ‘Mind you, I’m not surprised. That strange thing on your head, with those yellow feathers in it, would attract attention from faraway.’

There was a chuckle around me. Somewhat embarrassed, I sank down a little within the crowd.

‘Hang on, they’re moving. They’re all craning their necks and standing higher.’

‘Look, there he is!’ There was a hiss of soft excitement around me.

I lifted my head again. ‘He’s come out from behind the big grey one! I can see his whole head, now.’

‘Is he what we think he is? Is he really one?’ Our crowd was trembling with excitement.

‘Seriously looks like it to me. A fine sighting. A mega, in fact.’

‘What proves that he is one?’ asked someone. ‘What’s especially different about him?’

‘Notice those small eyes, particularly. That’s the main physical characteristic.’

Someone chuckled. ‘Is that why he’s staring in a different direction from all of the others?’

‘Could be. That’s precisely what he should be doing.’

I frowned. ‘They all still seem to be looking right at me. Except him, of course. He doesn’t appear to know where to look.’

The authoritative voice spoke firmly. ‘Exactly. That’s why he has the name he has.’

I nodded firmly. ‘I agree. High five, everyone! We are looking at our first genuine Lesser Spotting Birdwatcher.’ There was a satisfied shudder from all present. I relaxed at last, as I stretched out my wings and raised my yellow crest with a relieved sigh.

[George B. Hill (2017)]