The Morning Porch » phoebe

Thursday May 09, 2013

Dave Bonta — Thu, 09 May 2013 14:42:14 +0000

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.

Dave Bonta — Sat, 04 May 2013 13:20:30 +0000

Low clouds fly east to west. From above the road, the loud snap of a phoebe’s beak on the spot where some fly had been a moment before.

Dave Bonta — Fri, 12 Apr 2013 15:38:36 +0000

A phoebe perched high in a red maple shakes rain from its feathers, its tail twitching up and down, up and down among the dark red blooms.

Dave Bonta — Fri, 05 Apr 2013 16:16:00 +0000

The phoebe sings lustily for the first time in days, hawking flies on the sunny side of the barn. Bits of cattail down rise from the marsh.

Dave Bonta — Sat, 30 Mar 2013 13:22:01 +0000

The first phoebe is finally back, chanting his name in the barnyard. Marcescent leaves of a scarlet oak glow orange, back-lit by the sun.

Dave Bonta — Thu, 06 Sep 2012 12:44:10 +0000

When I come out, a committee of flies is convening on my chair, despite the chill. Ten minutes pass without a single bird call, then phoebe.

Dave Bonta — Sat, 28 Jul 2012 16:10:16 +0000

Sitting outside with my laptop, blind to the world. A phoebe flies past two feet from my nose, followed a minute later by a hummingbird.

Dave Bonta — Fri, 27 Jul 2012 13:09:28 +0000

A phoebe dives at a cabbage white butterfly and comes up short. It zigzags after it, hovers, snaps again: only a tiny piece of white wing.

Dave Bonta — Sat, 09 Jun 2012 13:25:54 +0000

A warm morning at last. Waxwings whistle at the tops of the tall locusts, but from the phoebe nest, only silence: the young have fledged.

Dave Bonta — Fri, 23 Mar 2012 15:00:30 +0000

The springhouse phoebe has already found a mate. They take turns fluttering up under the eaves to refurbish the 30-year-old nest.