Crossing the Celery Bog bridge I spotted a big white somebody flying effortlessly over the water. “Who’s that? Who’s that? Hurry, hurry!”, I muttered, hustling through the woods with my gear, eyes to the sky the entire way. Arriving to the water’s edge I scanned the skies, but he was gone. “Figures, dang bird!” I knew he’d be gone, it never fails! “Oh, hello big white Caspian Tern perched on a log directly in front of me.” I knew he’d still be there, knew it all along.