The white-collard seedeater resides in small numbers along the upper Rio Grande. Adding the bird to my North American list requires I see or hear it on my side of the river. Today offers no such luck but I do notice a woman waving from Mexico as if she knows me. I point to the binoculars slung around my neck to make my intention clear. She points to a copse of willows. And for a moment I consider wading across but decide against it. Even if the bird were there I couldn’t count it anyway.
the last exit