11/23/2009

Dave Bonta November 23, 2009

Gray morning with raven: that gutteral, wild cry so inadequately rendered in birders’ onomatopoeia as Bonk, bonk.

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11/23/2009

October 3, 2023
Moon above, mist below, and the treetops shot with sun. Jays call back and forth, acorns filling the pouches in their throats.
11/23/2009

October 3, 2021
A low cloud ceiling gravid with rain. It’s quiet. Every few seconds, another yellow leaf zigzags down.
11/23/2009

October 3, 2020
Half an hour past sunrise, three sharp, rising notes turn out to be from a blue jay, who quickly switches to the familiar, declarative mode.
11/23/2009

October 3, 2018
Somewhere nearby, the bugling of geese. A red-breasted nuthatch goes up and down each branch of a small walnut. Mosquito: a blur on my nose.
11/23/2009

October 3, 2017
As the sun warms the red porch floor, more and more insects drop by to sunbathe: two yellowjackets, a paper wasp, a fat bluebottle fly.
11/23/2009

October 3, 2016
In the valley, two train whistles—one high, one low. Down-hollow, two drumming woodpeckers—likewise. A clearing wind dries the heavy dew.
11/23/2009

October 3, 2015
Cold rain blowing sideways. The walnut trees behind the house have shed their leaves, unveiling a still-heavy ordnance of green orbs.
11/23/2009

October 3, 2014
Overcast and still. The hollow thumps of a pileated woodpecker foraging for breakfast. Walnuts fall on the back roof with an alarming crash.
11/23/2009

October 3, 2013
Every morning more shards of ridge-top sky are visible through the trees. In the black birch’s yellow crown, yellow-rumped warblers.
11/23/2009

October 3, 2011
Dawn. A migrant wood thrush flits from branch to branch along the edge of the woods. In the yard, a grown fawn nuzzles its mother’s…

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The Morning Porch

Daily short takes from an Appalachian hollow

11/23/2009