Category Archives: For the Birds column

For the Birds: Yellow warbler no more; warbling vireo no more

Posted on by
2
Photo by Chris Bosak
A warbling vireo sings from a perch in New England.

Last year I wrote about finding a house wren and not being able to find it on the eBird list only to discover that the name of the bird had been officially changed to northern house wren.

Well, this year, there were two more similar name changes. First, the yellow warbler is now the northern yellow warbler. I think most people will continue to call it yellow warbler for years to come, but the familiar, loquacious yellow bird that nests throughout New England is, indeed, now the northern yellow warbler. 

The reason for the change is to differentiate the migratory yellow warbler (the one we see in New England in spring and summer) from the non-migratory yellow warbler that is a year-round resident of the Caribbean, parts of Central and South America, and extreme southern Texas and Florida. That bird is now called the mangrove yellow warbler.

It seems to me they could have just added mangrove to the non-migratory bird’s name and left the more common yellow warbler’s name alone. But they did what they did, and we all have to get used to it.

By the way, “they” refers to the American Ornithological Society and other ornithologists and taxonomists. The name change has little to no impact on the casual birder. It has some significance for those who study birds for a living and those who keep fastidious life lists.

I discovered the other name change by accident. By now, most people are familiar with birding app Merlin. That’s the one that can, among many other things, identify nearby birds by their songs or calls. The “home page” of the app has a feature that randomly selects a local bird as your Bird of the Day. When you use the app and that bird is heard, it puts a little “Your Bird of the Day” message next to the entry.

Always one to welcome a new challenge, however inconsequential, I began a quest to find my Bird of the Day whenever I took a birdwalk. I don’t exactly knock myself out looking for the bird, but I get a small measure of satisfaction whenever the Bird of the Day message shows up on my list. 

One day in mid-May, warbling vireo came up as my Bird of the Day. This will be easy, I thought. By mid-May, warbling vireos are seemingly everywhere and easy to spot and even easier to hear. Sure enough, shortly into my walk that day, I heard a warbling vireo. I glanced down at the phone to discover there wasn’t a Bird of the Day message next to the warbling vireo that showed up on the list. 

I was confused for a few moments before realizing that Merlin identified the bird as an eastern warbler vireo, not simply warbling vireo even though “warbling vireo” was indeed my Bird of the Day. Apparently, they updated the name on the species-heard list but not as a Bird of the Day. If finding the Bird of the Day was a lucrative pursuit, I would have protested about getting cheated out of my bird that day. But it’s not, so I hardly gave it another thought — until now, that is.

So, yes, the bird New Englanders have been calling warbling vireo for so long is suddenly the eastern warbling vireo. Similar to the house wren and yellow warbler, the name change resulted from a split of a bird that formerly was considered the same species. The eastern warbling vireo breeds in the eastern and central parts of the U.S., while the western warbling vireo breeds out west. There is very little crossover range for the species. 

In the grand scheme of things, not much has changed. People will continue to call the northern house wren a house wren, the northern yellow warbler a yellow warbler and an eastern warbling vireo a warbling vireo. But, in case you ever come across a birder in the woods who is a stickler for names, now you know the new official names.

For the Birds: Summer is for birding

Posted on by
1
Photo by Chris Bosak
Yellow warbler at Huntington State Park, Redding, CT. Yellow warblers are common summer sightings throughout New England.

Summer gets a bad rap for birdwatching.

Sure, it’s not as exciting as the spring migration when every day is a new discovery and a whirlwind of birding activity, but the summer has its own rewards. The most exciting part of summer birdwatching, of course, is discovering nesting activity and watching young birds grow. There’s much more to summer birdwatching, however.

First, let’s acknowledge some of the challenges to birdwatching in the summer. Finding a bird in the woods becomes extremely difficult as the leaves are out in full force. You can drive yourself batty trying to find an eastern wood pewee high atop a leafed-out maple or oak.

Birds are also much less vocal in the summer than they are in the spring. Very often in birdwatching, birds are heard before they are seen. You hear a bird, look in that direction, and you find the bird. It’s not always that easy, for sure, but you get the idea. In the summer, birds don’t always give us that verbal cue, making it much more difficult to spot them. Birds don’t want to be seen in the summer, as they are on nests or raising young. The last thing they want is to be discovered, so they remain hidden and silent.

Finally, birdwatching hours in the summer are not conducive to late sleepers or those who turn in early. The long days mean that the sun rises early and sets late. True of all seasons, the best time to watch birds in the summer is early morning or evening. By 9 a.m., the sun is already high and harsh in the sky, and the temperature is rising. You can still find birds in the afternoon, but even the birds seek out shade when it’s too hot.

Now on to the good stuff.

It’s always a thrill to see birds carrying nesting material or food for young in their bills. One of my favorite photos I took is a gray catbird with a bill full of insects. It paused on a perch just long enough before heading to its nest. The bird had five or six insects, all of a different variety, in its bill.

If you are lucky enough to find a nest, it is fun to watch the progress from eggs to babies to fledglings. This should be done in a cautious manner, of course. I wrote earlier this year about watching a pair of northern flickers hollow out a nest in a dead tree in my yard. You can’t see inside a woodpecker nest, but I know they are still there and likely have eggs now. Once they hatch, the baby birds will call constantly for food. It’s fun to watch the dutiful parents make several trips back and forth to the nest.

Summer is the best time to see waders in New England. Waders are tall, skinny birds found around the water, such as herons and egrets. While some great blue herons are year-round New England residents, most arrive in the spring and leave in the fall. That leaves summer as the best time to spot them. Since they are around water, they don’t have the cover of leaves to hide them.

Similarly, ospreys are a summer treat to see, especially around coastal areas, but also around large inland lakes and rivers. Ospreys were rare sightings in New England a few decades ago, but their population has increased dramatically to the point they are common sightings in the summer. Connecticut and Massachusetts, for example, each have more than 1,000 osprey nests. New Hampshire is estimated to have about 150 nests.

Another nice thing about birdwatching in the summer is that it can be done anywhere and combined with other outdoor activities. Going to the beach? Keep an eye out for shorebirds, terns and ospreys. Taking a hike? Look for woodland birds. Neighbor having a barbeque? Look for blue jays, nuthatches, catbirds, goldfinches, wrens and other backyard birds.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention hummingbirds. For some people, a highlight of summer is watching hummingbirds visit their feeders, potted flowers or flower gardens.

And, if the birding gets really slow in August, that’s a great time to look for butterflies, dragonflies and other creatures in fields and meadows.

Summer is often paired with words such as doldrums, dog days, dragging or sweltering. For birdwatchers, it’s just a different season with new opportunities.

For the Birds: Wrapping up the warbler season

Posted on by
1

Photo by Chris Bosak – A northern parula sings from the top of a shrub in New England this spring.

Now that the spring migration is over, at least for the most part, it’s time to turn our attention to summer birdwatching.

Before we do that, I want to recap my spring birdwatching highlights. Spring highlights often begin and end with warblers, and this spring was no exception, although some non-warblers are certainly worthy of inclusion here.

It was another good spring for warblers. I’ll get into some of the less common ones later in the column, but the warblers that are often seen in New England did not disappoint. Yellow warblers were, and continue to be, seemingly around every corner. Their ubiquitous song is inescapable. (Not that I’d want to escape it in the first place.)

Other common warblers seen on nearly every walk this spring include common yellowthroats, black-and-white warblers, blue-winged warblers, palm warblers, ovenbirds, American redstarts, yellow-rumped warblers and pine warblers. 

While the warbler action was pretty consistent, it was a slow spring for some of the other colorful birds we look forward to seeing after every long winter. The only scarlet tanager I’ve seen so far was a female that I saw briefly in the canopy weeks ago. I did, however, receive emails from both Pat from Sandwich and Greg from Tilton with photos attached of male scarlet tanagers at their feeders. Scarlet tanagers are not considered common feeder birds, but they will occasionally visit for suet or mealworms.

Thankfully, tanagers nest throughout New England so my window is far from closed.

It’s also been rather slow for rose-breasted grosbeak and indigo bunting sightings. By this time of the year, I’ve usually seen dozens of grosbeaks and at least a few buntings. So far, I’ve seen only a few grosbeaks and not a single bunting. Indigo bunting did come up on my Merlin app a few times, but I was never able to spot it.

Baltimore orioles, on the other hand, have been plentiful this spring on my walks. The other day, I spotted a bird near the top of a dead tree. Even at about 100 yards, I could see the bright orange plain as day. A peer through my binoculars confirmed that it was an oriole.

Warbling vireos, which were pervasive on my walks last spring, were somewhat more scarce for me this spring, but still plentiful. Red-eyed vireos were plentiful as well. Of course, catbirds and eastern towhees were constant companions too.

Less common warblers are always a thrill to see and a highlight of spring birdwatching. This year, my top warblers included hooded warblers, northern parulas, magnolia warblers, black-throated blue warblers, chestnut-sided warblers, and a Wilson’s warbler. Hopefully, I’ll make it to northern New Hampshire a few times this summer and find a few more warblers to add to the list. 

Overall, it was a good spring for spotting migrants. Now it’s on to summer birding. Next week, we’ll look at some of the things to look for in the bird world during the summer. 

For the Birds: Don’t miss the action this spring

Posted on by
3
Photo by Chris Bosak
Yellow warbler at Huntington State Park, Redding, CT, May 2026.

Spring migration continues to work its magic. 

My walks have been filled with migrants, including a few FOYs (first of years) each time I go out. On one recent walk, I saw a veery, red-eyed vireo, and American redstart, all firsts of the year. It’s always nice to see birds for the first time since last spring, summer or fall. 

The feeling is a little different for birds that we know are just passing through and won’t nest here. Of course, it’s always nice to see the first rose-breasted grosbeak, scarlet tanager, Baltimore oriole or ruby-throated hummingbird, but we know they will nest locally, and we will have plenty more chances to see them over the next several months.

Some birds, however, especially select warblers, will not nest locally, so if we miss them during their short window of passing through New England, we have to wait until fall to try to catch a glimpse of them as they pass through during their southern flight. If we miss that opportunity, our next chance will be the following spring.

In many cases, it can be several years between sightings of a certain species. The other day, I saw a hooded warbler, an aptly named and cool-looking olive-and-yellow bird with a black hood and throat. It had been years since I had last seen one. I spotted the bird among a tangle of vines fairly high in the canopy, which was surprising because they tend to hang out in shrubs and the understory.

Unless you’re really lucky and these birds come to your yard, you have to get out there in order to see them. Some days it’s tough to get out of bed early, and some days work doesn’t allow for a birding break, but spring is the time of year to make every moment count. 

Here are some other random birding highlights from recent days.

The northern flicker pair I wrote about a few weeks ago successfully dug out the rest of their nest in the snag in my backyard. It took several days of constant work for them, but the other day, I checked on them, and one was inside the hole with only its head sticking out.

During a recent work-from-home day, I glanced out at the birdbath and saw a blue jay on the edge. A moment later, another blue jay landed next to it and fed it a mealworm that it had plucked from my bird feeder. Earlier this spring, I saw a cardinal pair and a house finch pair do the same thing.

My son and I were working on a car in the driveway (actually, he was working on it, and I was watching) when I heard crows cawing and blue jays squawking in the nearby hemlocks. I said, “I bet there’s a hawk or owl in there.” He turned just in time, and we watched a barred owl fly out of the hemlock branches and disappear in the woods. A bit later, we heard its “who cooks for you, who cooks for you all” song over and over.

That’s it for now. Let me know what you’re seeing out there this spring.

For the Birds: Nesting season has its ups and downs

Posted on by
1
Photo by Chris Bosak
A northern flicker hollows out a hole in a snag for a potential nest site, New England, April 2026.

While the majority of spring migrants are still working their way north, many of New England’s year-round birds are already getting down to the business of nesting.

I’m sure I’ll see plenty of nesting activity as the spring progresses, but last week I witnessed two interesting scenes related to nesting. 

The first was in my backyard. As I approached one of my birdfeeders to throw in a handful of safflower seed, I noticed a northern flicker dart off into the woods. Its white rump patch gave away its identification. I was fairly certain the flicker had been clinging to a topped-off dead tree a dozen or so yards away from the feeder, and I made a note to approach the feeder more carefully next time.

Sure enough, I returned half an hour later and found a flicker on the same snag. I kept my distance this time and watched as the flicker worked on hollowing out a hole in the snag. I observed for a few minutes and went back into the house.

Over the next several days, I watched a male and female flicker take turns hollowing out the hole. It was slow-going, but the flickers kept at it dutifully. I’ll continue to watch the progress, and, hopefully, the flickers will successfully build a nest there and raise young. That would make for an interesting spring and summer in my yard.

Watching how slow the progress was and how much work the flickers put into making the cavity, I have new respect for woodpeckers and how difficult the job of securing the future of the species is. I also see why so many birds and animals utilize old woodpecker holes for their own nesting purposes. The hard construction work has already been done.

I read that flickers are uncommon among woodpeckers in that they often reuse cavities from the previous year. I don’t blame them. I can’t imagine doing that every year.

From that hopeful scene to one a bit darker: I was sitting in my office when I noticed movement through the window. The motion stopped in a tangle of vines where the parking lot and woods meet. I lifted my binoculars (yes, I have a pair at the office) and spotted a robin sitting in a nest. I was excited and concerned at the same time. While the nest itself was pretty well hidden, it was right at the edge of the woods and fairly obvious with the bird in the nest.

I watched a male and female come and go throughout the day and even shared the news with some co-workers. Even while I thought about how neat it would be to have a flicker nesting at my home and nesting robins visible through my window at work, I remained cautiously optimistic about the robins.

Later in the afternoon, I saw a blur flash past my window. By this time, a car in the lot had blocked part of my view of the vines where the nest had been built. I had a feeling what the blur was, but hoped I was wrong.

I stood, and my fears were realized. A red-shouldered hawk was standing on the nest tearing it apart. The robins took a few swipes at the hawk, but the larger bird of prey hardly seemed to notice. 

The robins, of course, abandoned the nest and haven’t returned. Thankfully, it’s still very early in the season, and the robins can try again–hopefully, in a better place next time. 

I was confused about the encounter. The obvious conclusion is that the hawk raided the nest to eat the eggs. However, I don’t think the robins had eggs in the nest yet. I had just noticed the robins for the first time that day. Surely, since it was in direct sight of my office window, I would have noticed the robins building the nest prior to that day.

Then why would the hawk go after the nest like that? Maybe it attacked the nest in the hopes that there would be eggs or baby birds in it and came up empty. Or perhaps it was a territorial message, as red-shouldered hawks do nest on the property.

Regardless of the reason, I wish the robins luck with their next attempt. I also wish the hawk luck on its next quest for food. And, of course, I wish the flickers luck in their nesting season.

For the Birds: The shore comes through again

Posted on by
Reply
Photo by Chris Bosak – A male piping plover (background) moves toward a female plover at Milford Point, April 2026.

The spring migration has certainly begun, but it is still in the building-up phase.

I took a few walks in the woods over the last few days and saw some very welcomed migrants, such as pine warbler, palm warbler, yellow-rumped warbler and Louisiana waterthrush. 

When migration is just picking up, however, the action can be hit or miss. In a few weeks, the action will be all hits all the time, and I’m sure we are all looking forward to that.

While those first migrants are great to see after a long winter, they also whet the appetite to see more spring migrants. The woods will be hit or miss for the next several days anyway, so the other day I went to a spot where I knew I would see a few old feathered friends that I hadn’t seen since last summer.

The coast, whether it is the Atlantic Ocean, one of its many bays in New England, or Long Island Sound, is a safe place to find some early shorebird migrants in April. I had a little time, so I headed for one of my favorite spots along the Long Island Sound shoreline in southwestern Connecticut. The spot, the Coastal Center at Milford Point, rarely disappoints, and this time, it was certainly on the mark again.

In terms of sheer numbers and variety, the action was OK, but in terms of quality, it was a well worthwhile trip. One side of the sanctuary is a large tidal bay, and I immediately spotted an osprey pair on its usual nesting platform, as well as dozens of brant and a sizable number of green-winged teal.

The other side of the sanctuary, which features a long sand spit and the whole of Long Island Sound, is where the real action takes place in April, as piping plovers and American oystercatchers return to their breeding grounds. 

Last year, I made a similar trip a little later in April and was lucky enough to find a piping plover mother with two chicks following closely behind. This year, by chance, I timed it to coincide with the mating season and saw several males displaying and chasing females, and even caught one pair in copulation.

It was good to see the breeding activity, as piping plovers are a species in decline. The Cornell Lab of Ornithology has a paragraph on its website explaining the conservation status as such: “The 2025 State of the Birds report lists Piping Plover as an Orange Alert Tipping Point species, meaning that it has lost more than 50% of its population in the past 50 years and has shown accelerated declines within the past decade. Partners in Flight estimates a global breeding population of 8,400 individuals and rates the species a 16 out of 20 on the Continental Concern Score.”

The sand spit offers a good opportunity to get relatively close to piping plovers. The area where nesting activity occurs is generously roped off to give the birds plenty of space to do their thing. 

There were several pairs of oystercatchers as well. Oystercatchers, with their large size, massive orange bills and ubiquitous high-pitched call, are consistently on my ever-changing list of favorite birds. 

Given the choice, I would pick the woods over the shore almost every time. The shore, however, does call to me on occasion, and I’m always glad when I hearken to the call.

(See more photos in my previous post here.)

For the Birds: How are moose doing these days anyway?

Posted on by
2
Photo by Chris Bosak – A cow moose in Pittsburg, NH, in the early 2000s.

I was lucky enough to live through New Hampshire’s golden age of moose.

The moose population in the state peaked at somewhere around 7,000 to 8,000 in the mid- to late-1990s. At the time, I worked a four-day week and had Sunday, Monday and Tuesday off each week. Working until midnight on Fridays and Saturdays wasn’t great for my social life, but it was ideal for camping trips. As I headed to northern New Hampshire on Sunday afternoons, most people were packing up and going back home to start the workweek.

I had my choice of campsites at Deer Mountain State Park in Pittsburg, and I had my choice of ponds on which to canoe. Rarely did I see other paddlers on the ponds. But I saw plenty of moose. I won’t exaggerate and say I saw dozens on each trip, but I certainly saw four or five either on the ponds or along the roads each time I went. I can’t recall a trip where I didn’t see at least a few moose.

My most memorable canoe trip came on a Monday after a Fourth of July weekend when I had my favorite pond to myself in the evening and three bull moose lumbered out from different parts of the surrounding woods and settled into the pond with me. That was 30-odd years ago, and I still vividly remember the splashing noise the water made as it cascaded off their velvet-covered antlers when they picked up their heads with a mouth full of aquatic plants.

Those were the good old days.

Then, my life situation changed. I moved farther away and worked normal hours and days. My trips up north decreased dramatically and were relegated to typical weekend days.

More importantly, the moose started to disappear. Slowly at first and then dramatically.

The state’s moose population is now estimated to be about 3,000. A combination of winter ticks, brainworm and changing habitat essentially cut the moose population in half, or more.

The decline started in the early 2000s and received a boatload of press for many years. I wrote my own news article for the Keene Sentinel on the subject in 2019. Lately, it seems to me anyway, the updates have subsided. How are moose doing now? Still decreasing? Perhaps increasing?

It seems like it’s neither, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

“The moose population has been relatively stable for the last five years,” Henry Jones, Moose Project Leader for New Hampshire Fish and Game Department, said last week. “It varies locally, with some areas up and some down. Overall, the population has been declining for 20 years.”

Why is that not necessarily bad news? The golden age of moose I mentioned before may have been too much of a good thing. The density of moose in some areas was too high and not sustainable. High moose density allows for winter ticks to thrive. More moose, more ticks. Fewer moose, fewer ticks.

Jones, who received his bachelor’s and master’s degrees from University of New Hampshire, said the goal is to conserve the moose population while still being able to offer recreational opportunities. Last year, the state issued 35 moose hunting permits and there was a 70 percent success rate. This year, the state will again issue 35 permits.

Goal number one for moose in the New Hampshire Big Game Management Plan 2026-2035 calls for population levels that “allow them to be in good physical condition and are realistic for habitat conditions.”

With winter ticks decimating the moose up north, a relatively small population compared to the 1990s is desirable. Why have 7,000 moose if most of them are going to die or become extremely weak due to the ticks slowly and excruciatingly bleeding them dry?

As much as I’d love to head north and see as many moose as I used to, conditions no longer support that. It pains me to say that because I have great memories of seeing so many moose back then, but this is the new reality.

While we may not see a glut of moose again in the state, with the help of biologists at New Hampshire Fish and Game, moose in sustainable numbers will be around for a long time.

For the Birds: Spring waterfowl migration never disappoints

Posted on by
1
Photo by Chris Bosak – A male common merganser swims on a small pond in New England.

There is a pond 20 minutes from my house that I pass frequently. For 50 weeks of the year, the pond holds little interest for me other than being an aesthetically pleasing landmark to look at as I drive past.

In the summer, a few mallards and Canada geese are the only birds present. It being a small pond in New England, it is frozen for most of the winter, which is great for the skaters who have fun on the ice, but not so much for birdwatchers.

However, during one week in early spring and one week in late fall, the pond holds a surprisingly solid variety of migrating ducks. 

The other day when I drove past, I noticed a bunch of white blobs in the water, and, even at 40 mph, I knew just what they were.

I pulled over at the closest spot where it was safe to do so and turned the car around. From a spot along the road about 30 yards from the pond’s edge, I was able to confirm that indeed they were common mergansers. For a small pond, it held quite a few of the large waterfowl. Common mergansers happen to be one of my favorite birds, so I lingered at that spot along the road for close to an hour watching them.

In previous years, I have seen hooded mergansers perform their courtship display on this pond. To my delight, the common mergansers were doing their courtship display on this day.

Also to my pleasant surprise, the mergansers were not the only duck species on the pond. As I was watching the mergansers dive and resurface, a small group of ring-necked ducks came over to join the party. They did not stay long among the common mergansers but rather silently floated to the other side of the pond. As I followed the ring-necked ducks’ path through my binoculars, I spotted a pair of gadwall on the opposite edge of the pond as well. A few mallards and Canada geese rounded out the fowl sightings.

It was a pleasant hour spent at the pond, especially considering a busy road runs adjacent to one long edge of the pond and the other edge is a residential area. My parking spot was along the residential road.

Yet another pleasing moment of this unexpected birding experience came in the form of a songbird. I had turned off my radio so as to not spook the mergansers away from the pond’s edge. Instead of listening to old songs I’ve heard hundreds of times before or some divisive news channel, I was treated to the sounds of a northern mockingbird showing off his repertoire from a nearby perch. At first, I thought it was an eastern phoebe, but that was just the first mimicked song I heard from the mocker.

I love the spring waterfowl migration. It serves as a link between the early songbird migrants, such as red-winged blackbirds and eastern phoebes, and the multitude of other birds that follow. While the spring waterfowl migration is somewhat predictable (look at just about any unfrozen body of water and you’ll see ducks of some sort), it is fleeting. Ducks and other fowl feel a sense of urgency to get to their northern breeding grounds, and they tend not to linger too long on their migratory stopover spots.

Depending on your location, the variety of waterfowl that pass through New England (and some stay, of course) is pretty impressive. Some of my favorites include common merganser, hooded merganser, northern pintail, northern shoveler, bufflehead and common goldeneye.

The trick is getting out there as often as possible during these few weeks when they are passing through. The other trick is to check all open water. Migrating ducks often end up in unexpected places such as swelled roadside ditches, fast-moving streams, and, of course, small ponds along busy roads.

For the Birds: Finally, a column on old bird names

Posted on by
1
Photo by Chris Bosak
The eastern towhee used to be called chewink.

Many months ago, or maybe it was years at this point, I promised to do a column on old bird names. 

Quite frankly, I forgot about it and never got around to doing the column. I can’t even remember what inspired me to consider such a column, but I must have been writing about a bird with a relatively new name and thought it would be a good idea to look at other somewhat recent bird name changes. Perhaps I wrote about a long-tailed duck and recalled the old name of oldsquaw. Regardless of the impetus, here’s that column I promised so long ago.

Now, I did write a column last summer about the most recent name changes by the American Ornithological Society. In that column, I relayed that the powers that be changed the name of the house wren we see in New England to northern house wren. A year earlier, I wrote that the three redpoll species were lumped into a single species called redpoll. 

Continue reading →

For the Birds: As it turns out, birds and birders are smart

Posted on by
Reply
Photo by Chris Bosak
Snow gathers on a blue jay’s face during a snowstorm, January 25, 2026, New England. Blue jays, like all corvids, are highly intelligent.

We’ve all heard the expression “birdbrain” to describe someone lacking intelligence or prone to doing dumb things. The definition that pops up when doing an internet search is “a silly or stupid person.”

Birdbrain, of course, is a misnomer because birds are actually very smart.

While everyone has heard of birdbrain, how about birderbrain? I’d be willing to bet not many people have heard that one before. That would be understandable because I just made up the expression for this column.

Continue reading →