The usual pair of golden-crowned kinglets foraging nearby. I pish them into the cedar for a better view and get told off by a Carolina wren.
Dave Bonta
Saturday November 16, 2019
It’s warm in the sun, though the air is cold. A red-tailed hawk comes in fast and low toward the feeder, pulls up, circles, and flies off.
Friday November 15, 2019
Pulling my hat down against the sun, I glimpse a brown creeper on the dark side of a trunk. Every breeze strips more leaves from the lilac.
Thursday November 14, 2019
It’s above freezing; birds bathe in the spring. A snowbird hops through the only patch of snow: on the north side of the springhouse roof.
Wednesday November 13, 2019
Juncos’ soft whistles. A white-throated sparrow’s melancholy song. The joyful shrieks of our neighbors’ four-year-old grandchildren.
Tuesday November 12, 2019
Cold, but without the promised snow. Against the overcast sky, the silhouettes of what can only be kinglets flitting through the birches.
Monday November 11, 2019
Soft sunlight filtered by clouds. The pale brown seedheads of goldenrod glow, a few trembling as a mixed flock of small birds moves through.
Sunday November 10, 2019
That late-autumn smell of wet moss, leaf mould, and freeze-thawed streambank mud, lightly peppered with an American crow’s shrill cant.
Saturday November 09, 2019
-5°C. The wilted and faded lilac leaves have acquired mold-like coats of frost. A white-breasted nuthatch’s nasal two notes.
Friday November 08, 2019
First light. A small bird who’d been spending the night in the old hornets’ nest chirps and flutters off. A light dusting of snow.