Birdwatching in greater San Diego County...

 We were sitting in the hot tub of the pool area at our (?) resort (?) [not pictured - you're welcome] with another couple from Des Moines when four green parrots flew overhead seemingly on a mission in a perfect straight line formation.

At first we all speculated as to whether the animals were recent escapees from the San Diego Zoo or Safari Park (which we had each dutifully visited one of earlier in the week).  After all, a dog had just a few days prior broken in to the San Diego zoo to meet some gorillas, so it didn't seem outside the realm of the probable that an escape had occurred.

After a little googling, though, it became clear that wild parrots have lived in and around Ramona, California, possible since as far back as the 1950s.  Non-native, for sure, but hell, it's California - everyone is from somewhere else!

After spying the same pack of the parrots the following evening at about the same time heading along the exact same path, we decided that they had a daily pattern, and we could capture some photographic evidence of them the following evening... Best laid plans, and all that:

These are they, truly, even though they're hard to see and don't appear at all green in this picture it's a pair of the set of four (or similar compatriots), but I barely caught them.  They tricked me, you see - by flying overhead in the opposite direction about 30 minutes earlier than when we had decided was their appointed time.  We were in the pool, and although I did make sure we got out of the pool to be closer to our phones at their appointed time, I didn't really fully expect them to come back the other way as they had the previous two nights - but indeed they did, and I scrambled for my phone and snapped this pic (and another one of entirely empty blue sky).

So, it seems obvious to me now that each day at about 4:45pm PT the parrots fly east into the desolate nowhere land beyond San Diego Country Estates, and hang out there doing something for about 30 to 45 minutes - whereafter they immediately bee-line it back westward to wherever they are most of the rest of the time.  Nuts, right!!??

Unfortunately, we won't ever get to find out what it is they do, because a mile or so east of here seems to be where the world ends... Even though google maps seems to think that there's a road there (and there is something that looks a bit like a mediocre driveway that's marked with an ominous {and very non-official looking} sign that reads NO EXIT), I didn't attempt it.  

It was reminiscent of a "Private Road" I encountered in Platte County, Wyoming when I was heading home from the Great American Eclipse.  I, and approximately 400,000 people from Colorado and California, had just witnessed the astounding event, stood around for a few minutes looking at each other appreciating the grandeur of nature, then got into our cars and started heading home on one of the approximately 4 roads in the entire county.  I'd been planning to head south get on the interstate and run in to I-80 to cut across Nebraska on the way home, but it soon became clear everyone was heading south, and there would be very little progress that way today.  So I asked google for a detour to take me back north to I-90, and it kindly obliged with a route that seemed a lot less trafficky than the one I was on.  After a turn off (where I was following a dozen or so industrious detourers and followed by a dozen or so more) and a half mile on a very minor road, we passed a sign that read "Private Road", but I didn't think much of it.  I'd been on lots of "Private Roads" which in the East and Midwest generally meant a bunch of rich neighbors paid a community to get their actual road listed as "private" and also to pay cops to harass anybody in a non-luxury vehicle.  In the West, though, it turns out that Private Road can mean "my road" as in "my driveway" that passes directly between my house and my garage and as our impromptu caravan approached the homestead we saw that the whole family (at least 3 generations, it seemed) had come out to watch us drive through their yard as they angrily shook their heads or at times yelled at each of us drivers in turn.  This was Wyoming, after all, the sort of place someone is as likely to shoot you as anywhere for approaching their property.  But there was safety in numbers and collective stupidity and American tourism.

And so we play tourist once more, this time particularly enjoying the birds (our favorite, Big Black Bird, is not pictured here, but are a couple more that we've gotten to know this week {I think an Acorn Woodpecker and a female Western Bluebird, but I could be wrong}).  These we've enjoyed as much as anything here - the puzzle and the pool and a Harry Potter marathon and a couple games of Scrabble (I won both) and Shuffleboard (Brooke won both) and all of the other things that we are supposed to do when traveling.

the eating the drinking the shopping the viewing oh my indeed