…prove they’re not so bright. And yes, one of those bikers/biologists was me.
A couple weeks ago, a friend of mine—who will from now on be referred to as Wordsmith—and I went mountain biking in the snow. About two miles into the ride, we heard a woodpecker and stopped to identify it. Our brilliant conversation went something like this.
“Do you see it?” asked Wordsmith.
“No. Do you?”
“It’s right there?” He pointed.
“Oh, yeah, I see it now.”
“What kind is it?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“Oh wait, it’s a … uh…pela…pelaginous… Damn what are those things called?” said Wordsmith.
“Pelaginous?" I wrinkled my nose at him. "What the hell are you talking about?”
For those of you who don’t know, there is no such thing as a pelaginous bird, but there are pelagic birds. They’re sea birds. Any sea bird. Woodpeckers are not sea birds, therefore they are not pelagic or pelaginous.
“Do you mean a downy?” I asked, trying to get us back to woodpeckers? “Oh wait, I know what you mean. You’re thinking of a…uh…pileated!”
“Yes! It’s a pileated woodpecker.”
I snort with disgust at his stupidity. “That’s not a pileated. My parents have them in their backyard. Pileated woodpeckers are much bigger than that.”
The next morning, I looked up the stupid bird. Sure enough it was a pileated woodpecker. Even worse, Wordsmith had looked it up the night before and knew I was wrong. But he is much nicer than I am and didn’t feel the need to rub my nose in it. Instead, he let me live in my own little world—one in which I’m much smarter than I really am.
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