Like birdwatchers, cockwatchers have their cherished spots for indulging their hobby. Unfortunately, some locales that could be expected to yield treasures in this realm often disappoint. Bars can be a bore with nary a dick in sight after a hard evening of cruising; bushes can scratch sensitive skin; and even our beloved back alleys, gutters, and toilets can leave even the hardiest queen soiled and unsatisfied. Little wonder, then, that many a local penisspotter turns to what is often ripe territory indeed, the annual San Francisco International Lesbian and Gay Film Festival.

Some years the fest offers a bumper crop of cock, other years only a smattering of images of our spongy-tissued little pal. This year’s admittedly unscientific sampling, sad to report, falls into the latter category. Still, there are enough appearances to make it worth donning safari hat and lorgnette and proceeding on the hunt.

Dick aficionados have every right to expect a documentary about L.A.’s male prostitutes to bare all, and Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato’s 101 Rent Boys kindly obliges. The "boys" — some of whom look old enough to have spawned two generations of competition for themselves — discuss all the usual topics, but for some viewers the words fade fast as the filmmakers’ $50 bills open not only the boys’ mouths but in some cases their pants.

The fest includes less jaded penises, too. In Phillippe Vallois’s 1980 queer classic We Were One Man, set in World War II, the love affair between a goofy Frenchman and a German soldier gives many opportunities for innocent male nudity. The Frenchman takes a shower, does naked calisthenics, and cavorts au naturel through the French countryside in pursuit of his Aryan ideal, while the latter also has enough exposure to satisfy discriminating dickophiles. Fetishists will enjoy a scene in which the two unleash their schlongs and giddily urinate into cups, a conceit far more likely to be seen in a film made 30 years ago than today.

A minor spotting can be found in Robert Kennedy’s short Hi, I’m Steve, from the Fun in Boys’ Shorts program. The title character’s search nets him two baskets — one an authentic dick, the other a picnic basket carried by the same person strolling down the beach. Another naked beach queen can be found strutting briefly through Zachie Achmat’s fine documentary Apostles of Civilised Vice. This one is an authentic naked South African homosexual, seen in historical footage.

Harder pleasures in this area can be found in Pansy Division’s music video Vicious Beauty in the Boys by the Bay program. Shot in MTV-verite style — though far too hardcore for that wimpy cable channel — the video is the Pansies’ paean to a hunky high school basher who, shock of shocks, turns up in a queer porn film. Happily, this transition is shown in all its splendor, with hard-ons competing for screen time with the group’s sweaty brand of homo rock.

Even hardened cockologists might not think to look at a lesbian movie for dick, but sure enough, in the tradition of festival surprises, there’s prick aplenty in the tandem featurettes Hard Love and How to Fuck in High Heels, directed by Shar Rednour and Jackie Strand. Yes, yes, purists will complain that these aren’t cocks at all, simply dildos. But the dykes’ thrusting power and sheer brio as they ram their girlfriends into ecstasy surely makes them of at least passing interest to open-minded dicksters. These films also get points for using candy-colored schlongs, adding a festive, fun air to all the heavy breathing.

Ironically, some of this year’s films cry out for prick imagery but fail to satisfy. It’s hard to imagine that the combination of German director with AIDS drama set partially in San Francisco’s sex clubs would be entirely bereft of penises, but Jochen Hick’s No One Sleeps fits that sad bill. Indeed, the film goes to irritating lengths to disguise our purple-headed pal, from blatant strategic blanket placement to clumsy pirouette-like moves by the film’s nude, hunky men as they jump in and out of each other’s arms. Perhaps the plot’s overwrought combination of AIDS theorizing, a gay serial killer, and opera confused the director’s priorities.

Eagle-eyed queens may have luck penetrating the shadows that inevitably swath some of the fest’s penises. Gerardo Vera’s fine Spanish feature Second Skin, for example, is as psychologically upfront as it is anatomically subtle, with the sexy Javier Bardem moving a tad too quick for the normal-visioned viewer to check out the goods. Historians of cinematic cock may recall that Bardem did reveal his substantial anatomy in 1992’s Jamon, Jamon. Alas, Second Skin doesn’t give us the chance to see if his dick, like Bardem himself, has gotten bigger and more alluring over the years.

Even viewers with a spyglass won’t find any penises in films with hunks who, in a just world, would happily unzip. The star of Aisling Walsh’s Forgive and Forget has charms surpassing most porn stars. Ditto the gorgeous country boy from Liu Bingjian’s Men and Women, as well as the seductive Charles from Rodrique Jean’s Full Blast. But why carp? There’s always next year.