Tag Archives: crows

Cold and overcast. Up above the blossoming...

Cold and overcast. Up above the blossoming hawthorn, three crows walk back and forth on the forest floor as if searching for a lost trinket.

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The green blush deepens on the hillside...

The green blush deepens on the hillside; shining motes of pollen speckle my laptop screen. A crow flaps up from the black currant bushes.

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An old strand of caterpillar silk at...

An old strand of caterpillar silk at the wood’s edge shimmers in the sun. A crow keeps saying something urgent in four syllables.

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The sun glints off periwinkle leaves...

The sun glints off periwinkle leaves in the yard where snow has just melted. All sounds come from a great distance: crow, woodpecker, train.

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This morning it’s the titmouse...

This morning it’s the titmouse’s turn to sing his spring song—an ode to tedium. I’m grateful when it’s drowned out by a mob of crows.

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The deep, soulful croak of a raven...

The deep, soulful croak of a raven high above the ridge, side by side with its mate, heading east. Far behind them, a rabble of crows.

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Five degrees above freezing; a steady...

Five degrees above freezing; a steady tap of meltwater on the porch roof. Crows. A blue, eye-shaped hole in the clouds eases shut.

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Cool and damp. The low-hanging clouds...

Cool and damp. The low-hanging clouds catch on the treetops. Crows signal their locations with almost every wingbeat.

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Crows and ravens squabble over deer...

Crows and ravens squabble over deer gut-piles in the woods. Dirt flies at the woods’ edge as a groundhog enlarges the entrance to its den.

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Every branch and twig is white with...

Every branch and twig is white with rime, and overhead, a latticework of contrails. Three crows skim the treetops on their way to a mobbing.

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