There I was alone, camera in hand, fully clothed and cutting through a nude beach to get to my assigned protection area. "Boobs" to the left of me-"winkies" to the right of me. I had no idea bird watching could be like this. While I walked I really tried hard to be respectful of peoples' privacy by looking straight ahead of me, as though I had blinders on. I even kept the lens cap on my camera for fear I'd be mistaken for a voyeur instead of a bird protector. Was there a difference, I asked myself? And then I snapped to.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of this leaping tanned body running out of the ocean, onto the beach, and worst of all headed straight for me. As she kept coming closer she started waving her hand in the air, smiling and yelling something. I sheepishly started to look around hoping this nude mirage was signaling to someone else--to anyone else for that matter. But not so--I was definitely the target. Now I know how a duck feels in hunting season. This stranger kept smiling and walking toward me, as if we met like this all the time. When she finally got to me and I could come to terms with looking at her in all her glory, I was able to see that she was an off duty shorebird trainee from the class I had taken. I honestly did not recognize her in the buff. And heaven knows, I didn't remember our being trained for this skill, either. Do you have any idea how awkward it was to stand there with my eyes riveted on her face, trying hard to keep my eyeballs from darting up and down and all around, while casually comparing piping plover notes? Believe me, male or female, it would not have made a bit of difference to little ol' modest me. I clearly was not prepared for this close encounter. This incident alone should have exonerated me from any guilt feelings I ever had of never volunteering enough, especially when you consider the old adage of "less is more."

Without seeming unfriendly or anxious, I slowly started stepping away from her trying artfully to remove myself from our "hap-py, hap-py talk." (Why the music from South Pacific came to mind at this point, I couldn't tell you. I was under duress, while she was undressed.) Anyway, we parted ways with her calling after me, "Let's talk some more tomorrow." Once again I could hear the strains of that same song coming over me. Backing up, as if in a coma, I started to softly sing, "talk a-bout a bird, talk a-bout a boob…" and I waved goodbye.

Later that day when I was able to focus again, I realized that whether you're in your clothes, or in the buff, volunteering can be fun. Of course, photographers will always have the extra burden of having to watch out for overexposure. But most importantly, everyone should know the words to "Happy Talk." You never know when you'll need them. "Hap-py hap-py talk, Talk about the things you'd like to do…"