This is Bird Noir. I'm Michael Stein, private eye.

Of all my sorry tales, the sorryest one is my nemesis bird.

That's what us birders call a species that just keeps giving you the slip.

Well, my nemesis bird is the painted bunting, real gem of a bird.

Males have blue heads, green wings and red breasts, and the females are yellow-green.

These birds love open spaces, shrubby clearings and overgrown farm fields.

I don't get out of the city much, what with my PI work.

But whenever I hear about a painted bunting around, I grab my binoculars and my fedora

and rush out the door. And I miss it every time.

Last year, I got word of a pair of them in the city cemetery.

As the rain began to pour, I jumped in my car and sped across town.

I ran to the pond near where the birds had been seen.

I asked a nearby birder where they were.

She pointed to a tree and said, right there,

but wait, I can't see them anymore.

And then I heard their song, like a dream fading away.

So I've heard, but never seen my nemesis bird.

But as I fall asleep, I see those painted buntings and all their fantastic color.

Someday, I tell myself, you'll see them someday.