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Tern Cycles
By Joe Pivetti

When I'm not in it for the long ride Top sprocket doesn't ring right. But I take a grip, and gear up with a wrest, To compete with the traffic on our roads west. By Gloria and Gumm* I've tuned the cable barrel To enter balmy park land and littery peril (Mostly from eucalyptus, pine and geese) In butterfly Gibbs, and pelican Carr* at trout release. I'm light on the calipers, coasting downhill, past quiet afternoon tees, The driving range, the lowlands, and up to a view (of the Wintersberg drink). If you ride with no hands on the (initially) paved path You can see over the rail to the teals, mallards, wigeons and scaups. Past the Slater trail merge, you smell the salt water marsh, and see the bentonite silt That's stalked by grievous grebes, plodding plovers, sanderlings, sandpipers and stilts. Encouraged by the piping of killdeer, I ride over the rills to the second channel span, And it's here...that now, you've really arrived...at Surf City eBirder land. I long for a remote controlled scow as I come to the pont and peer over the side, Where it's not just waste water under the bridge, but plenty of plastic, that'll find land at low tide. Then I'm onto the Brightwater side of the trail, with the zooming of long-lensed e-birders, The unleashing of canine pet owners, the zipping of charged-up E-bikers...and the tootling of terrible trikers. The ponds are usually quite ducky here - aswim with Ruddys and Redheads. I'm tired of the silence of herons and feel a need to be outspoken..so I go ahead And say "hey mate, did you get a good gander at that great gaggle of birds?" Of course, I meant the buffleheads, pelicans, cormorants, mergansers and honkers. The channeling comes to an end at the tidal culverts, where there's always a tern around. From here you can see the nearby beach, some loons, and a surf scoter or two. Towards Warner, after migration, you sometimes see a solo Great White. Perhaps he's home alone because he went fishing, fell asleep and missed his family flight. After reviewing recordings of numerous terns and sea mews, A head referee birder declares: "just a common foul" (to his crew). On past the vista point, I hang a ralphie on down to the low road that's bermed from the patch. This trail's so seldom shralped that you'll clap over gopher holes to get on top of the much smoother branch. Then its the Talbert ride up to Edwards Hill where I stop and e-loop (no button). Then it's slow past the ukuleles and anglers, to the rooted ride of Lake Huntington. There the path exits across fairway #5, where I loudly call out: "negative four", Which the local teed-off disc golphers have learned...means just the opposite of "fore". I cut to the dirt via the Senior Center path and past the Shipley Nature Center gate Where waxwings, bluebirds, warblers and finches come to rest, nest and congregate. Exiting the park at Villa Nueva, there's a culvert that's haunted by an egret who always stays snowy And, sporting some handsome pin feathers, makes this last leg both sloughy and showy. *Huntington Beach street and park names