“We Birders Need Food Too” Entry #1 wherein I show that birders need food of all kinds. A 200 word Set Piece, a new genre made up by one of the women who write this blog. (Think: birds, people, food, words, and whatever else sustains and propels us.)

(Perhaps play this while you read?)

We birders relish the usual and unusual in our birds, stories, and lunch.

The Story: “Uncle Steve had a rule. Only 3 sheets of toilet paper.”

The Lunch: White Horse Country Pub and Restaurant* along the Aspetuck in Marbledale. Cabernet, Clown Shoes White Ale, Camomile; heart-warming French Onion soup topped with a crisp crouton and a melted mound of Gruyere, Grilled-Three-Cheese with tomato on peasant bread; British and Sweet Potato fries; Reuben with lean corned beef, sauerkraut and Swiss Cheese on grilled marble rye; a Hungry Monk–pulled pork burger blend with English Cheddar, coleslaw, red onion, and honey barbecue sauce on buttered brioche; sautéed breast of chicken simmered in Chardonnay with granny smith slices and a dollop of fresh herb aioli on a baguette;



devoured beneath a Rolling Stones guitar and a 1920 Indian motorcycle mounted behind the bar, in front of the fire, at a continuous-use-circa-1580 tavern table!


The Bird: A sleek, large Canvasback with a Bob Hope-like sloping profile, rusty red head, white body, black chest & rear, found diving midst the dabbling Mallards and Ringneck ducks on the last patch of open water on Lake Waramaug, far-flung from where it breeds in prairie potholes and winters on ocean bays.




The fridge magnet the waiter gave me gives the address as 258 New Milford Turnpike; New Preston, CT. 860-868-1496. (www.whitehorsecountrypub.com)