On the Wing: Birds, bugs and tattoos

My birding trip to California ended in a tattoo parlor. But it started with birds -- and a surprise.

Earlier this fall, I decided to head out to Monterey, the West Coast's seabirding center. I was hoping, of course, to see some seabirds -- shearwaters, petrels, storm-petrels -- those saber-winged wanderers with the colors of stormy seas.

These birds stay at sea for all but nesting duties, 11 months at a stretch, much of it in the air. The birds come to Monterey Bay because of its canyons, currents and upwelling waters that bring food to the surface.

I signed on with one of the tour birding boats and hopped aboard. Monterey's harbor has the usual collection of fishing-port gulls. They followed our boat as it headed out, squabbling loudly for the popcorn we scattered in our wake. (Popcorn is what you use when you're chumming for seabirds.) We were creating commotion among the gulls to draw the attention of the birds we wanted to see.

On our outing that day, we saw 19 black-footed albatross, four dozen Northern fulmars and more than 400 shearwaters, five South Polar skuas, Leach's and ashy storm-petrels. We saw 32 species in all, including the Cook's petrel, rarely seen within 100 miles of the California coast.

These are magical birds with narrow wings designed for riding air currents above the waves. They sweep across the water, visible as they swoop upwards to gain momentum, then disappearing behind the swells as they race along. Sometimes they circle the boat. Sometimes they come only close enough to be tantalizing unidentified dots on the horizon.

I've seen a lot of birds, but they're among my favorite kind of bird, special enough to take my mind off bedbugs.

Bugs and tattoos

When I woke up at 4:15 a.m. to go birding, I found four bedbugs on my sheet. I delivered one to the motel manager, who lived on-site. He reassuringly told me "No, no, no. Not a bedbug." He identified them as "baby cockroaches."

Not exactly reassuring.

Bedbugs or cockroaches, I decided to de-bug my gear when I got off the boat. As soon as we came to shore, I found a coin laundry (without a restroom), next door to a tattoo parlor (with one).

I needed to run all my clothes through the dryer at high temperature, wash everything in hot water, then dry them on high again. Heat is supposed to kill bedbugs. So I dumped all of my spare clothes into the dryer, turned it to high, and pumped in five quarters. When they were done, I had to deal with the clothes I was wearing. Taking hot clothes with me, I went next door to a tattoo parlor and asked if I could use the restroom.

By then, I'd already put in a 16-hour day and I had no place to sleep. Instead of risking another cheap motel, I checked into the Monterey Bay Inn: balconies overlooking the bay, breakfast delivered to your room, no bugs, and not at all cheap.

I took a shower, very long and very hot, climbed into bed and listened to the sea lions on the breakwater barking.

My last thought before I fell asleep wasn't of bugs or washing machines or even colorful tattoos. It was this: a rolling boat on a foggy day, 35 miles from shore, and that Cook's petrel racing beside us.

It was a beautiful bird.

Jim Williams, a lifelong birder, is a member of the American Birding Association, Ducks Unlimited, Pheasants Forever and Delta Waterfowl. Join his conversation about birds at www.startribune.com/wingnut. He can be reached by email at two-jays@att.net.