So we arrive in the U.S. Virgin Islands via an eight-seater prop plane (flawlessly flown by a young woman) from San Juan, Puerto Rico, to St. Thomas. 3here we take many more taxi rides on the left side of the road, where my birding resumes, where we swim at Caribbean beaches, where we eat local food, where we spend a few nights with my old pal Jimmy Buffett.

Chickens everywhere, lots of cats, some dogs.

The locals are wonderful and cheerful, helpful, kind and funny and happy to tell their story of their island. From the locals, I learned to identify some of the birds of St. Thomas.