4/22/2016

Dave Bonta April 22, 2016

Overcast and damp. A tom turkey’s lusty declarations echo off the hillside, punctuated by the crisp, interrogatory whistles of a cowbird.

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4/22/2016

May 9, 2023
“Light rain” turns out to mean a shimmer of mizzle. The forest belongs once again to the preacher bird—red-eyed vireo—and the ovenbird chanting teacher teacher…
4/22/2016

May 9, 2022
Sunrise. A squirrel carries a freshly dug-up walnut in its mouth. The tulip tree’s leaves are already big enough to wave like a rave of…
4/22/2016

May 9, 2021
The rain arrives just about at church time, hard, steady, drowning out all other sound. Only the big mullein leaves still look dry.
4/22/2016

May 9, 2020
Still below freezing by late morning. Snowflakes wander back and forth among the new leaves. Holes in the clouds open and close.
4/22/2016

May 9, 2019
Singers change with the weather: in the mist, wood thrush and cerulean warbler. Scarlet tanager in the drizzle. Indigo bunting in the rain.
4/22/2016

May 9, 2017
Cold and clear. A squirrel climbs to the top of a red maple, bites off a seed-laden twig and carries it to a lower limb—a…
4/22/2016

May 9, 2016
Over the roar of a tractor, a cuckoo’s soft call. I find a recording on my iPad to verify the species: yellow-billed. He responds at…
4/22/2016

May 9, 2015
The hole in the dead elm is emitting puffs of dust: a flicker cleans house. Just beyond: scarlet tanager! Then the cardinal’s humdrum red.
4/22/2016

May 9, 2014
Just after sunrise, a wood thrush lands in the trees across from the porch and looks quietly all around. Two hours later, he’s singing.
4/22/2016

May 9, 2013
When the mid-morning rain eases up, the phoebe comes out to hawk for gnats, and I hear the first wood thrush singing—those pure, sad notes.

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The Morning Porch

Daily short takes from an Appalachian hollow

4/22/2016