Peering through binoculars, I confirmed the white speck as a bird, along with a few others around it. I was too far away to identify the species (and much too far to photograph it), so I slowly and quietly began paddling. I aimed slightly north and west in hopes of not spooking any of the sun-soakers with a head-on approach.

The indirect approach worked, and within a few minutes I could see the telling black ring on the beak of the lake-loving ring-billed gull. In the water around it were two Bonaparte's gulls.

The ring-billed appeared to enjoy basking in the afternoon sun atop a protruding log, while the Bonaparte's occasionally rose up, flew a circle or two of the area, dove into the lake, and then floated around again, before repeating the sequence.

Slouched low in the kayak, I tucked my elbows to my sides, calmed my breath, and collected photographs of the birds. Then, I would carefully set the camera down, gingerly paddle closer, and snap a few more pictures.

After several minutes doing this, I came to a slender branch sticking out of the water that I was able to wedge the boat and paddle against to keep from drifting in the breeze. This placed me about 30 yards from the gull, with the sun at my back.

After holding position for a spell, the ring-billed gull faced south and took flight. It made a few wide circles and then disappeared over a brushy peninsula that separates the two largest portions of the lake.

Only then did I look at my watch and realize that over an hour had passed since I first spotted the white speck.

Not only was I lucky to find a willing subject, but even more so to forget everything except for just one thing for a little while on a bright winter day.

That's the thing about going out - one never knows for sure what will be found.

The fresh air is always nice, too.