Rose-tinged feathers puffed out against the fresh snow, the mourning doves look delicious! Their wingbeats are a marriage of fife and drum.
The view from my front porch every morning, in 140 or fewer characters
Monthly Archives: December 2007
Two squirrels chasing around the trunk...
Two squirrels chasing around the trunk of a tulip poplar so quickly, I swear there’s a third. Whose tail is whose? Which one is in heat?
Tagged gray squirrel
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I am blocking on common bird calls—...
I am blocking on common bird calls—with each sneeze I forget another name. Behind the trees, the sky is white and gold, blue and gray.
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The stream this morning is full of...
The stream this morning is full of auguries, such as: “If you want to be master of all you survey, live in a ravine.” Carolina wren song.
Tagged Carolina wren, stream
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Chickadees and nuthatches are exchanging...
Chickadees and nuthatches are exchanging news, each in its own language as always. I’m watching snow, but hearing the hiss of sleet.
The birds eating seeds on the back...
The birds eating seeds on the back steps of the other house all fly at once, the rush of wings like a dovetail shuffle of cards.
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Christmas—the quietest morning of...
Christmas—the quietest morning of the year. The stream is a full chorus. A pileated woodpecker flaps overhead, cheering itself on.
Tagged pileated woodpecker, stream
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Cold and windy. A chickadee’s...
Cold and windy. A chickadee’s two-note spring song echoes off the ridge. Behind the trees, floating above the horizon, one yellow cloud.
Tagged chickadee
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Thick fog at dawn, gray against the...
Thick fog at dawn, gray against the snow. Slate-colored juncos call back and forth: Where are you? A wind comes up.
Yakety-yak on the porch, dee dee dee...
Yakety-yak on the porch, dee dee dee in the birches, and everywhere a drip drip drip drip drip: gray solstice morning.
Tagged black birch, chickadee, solstice
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