I grew up in Brooklyn, where migrating birds meant pigeons visiting from New Jersey. I have no patience for standing around and staring at branches, trying to see something I’m not going to be able to identify. But hummingbird banding — and bonding — in southern Arizona turned out to be a life list-worthy experience.
Originally published in More magazine, this Lowell Thomas award-winning story about visiting a nudist resort is the inspiration for my new memoir’s title, but is not the version included in it. I’ve reserved for the book the far funnier back story of how I got the assignment and what it was really like going undercover — and uncovered.