My dad has been pointing out mistletoe to me for most of my life as we drive along highways. I am fascinated by it. I try to collect some every Christmas at my grandfather's house. I have trained my eye to spot it from a great distance, being careful not to confuse it with a squirrel's nest. I am amazed at how common it is in Tennessee and how few people I talk to notice it.
Mistletoe spotting is a Winter game.
Laura (my fiancée) and I counted fifteen red tailed hawks last winter on our way back to Nashville from Knoxville. There are usually four along Vietnam Veterans Blvd. There is one that sits on the western tree line at the I-65/I-24 split north of Nashville. Lipscomb and Vanderbilt University have their own hawk.
I can again thank my father for this. On the weekends, when he would pick my brother and I up from my mom's house, we would hawk-spot. It was a competition. Even though my dad was driving he would still win. Over the years we developed rules. You cannot point your finger to the trees or say "maybe" without the penalty of loosing a point. Every hawk is a point and every crow, buzzard, clump of leaves, and stump is minus a point. I like to think that now I win most of the time, though I have to admit that Laura is getting pretty good. If it were not for the advantage of knowing where they like to perch, she would beat me. And as of late, my dad seems to see hawks that no one else sees. I am suspect, therefore we have developed the rule of "confirmation" to address these mystery birds.
Hawk spotting is a Winter game.
