American robin – Page 5 – The Morning Porch

March 19, 2011

Dave Bonta March 19, 2011 3

Colder this morning, and no sign of the phoebes that came back yesterday. A robin sings and falls silent. The sun comes out, goes in.

Dave Bonta March 18, 2011 2

Cloudy and warm. A robin sings in the yard, garrulous as an unmarried uncle. Red-bellied woodpeckers leapfrog each other on a tree trunk.

Dave Bonta November 1, 2010 2

The yard is alive with robins foraging, chasing, tut-tutting, rust-orange breasts the color of the oaks, all aglow in the mid-morning sun.

Dave Bonta April 26, 2010

Drum of rain on the roof and the birds sound distant—robin, field sparrow, cowbird—the world greener than it’s been in seven months.

Dave Bonta March 19, 2010

Cardinal, song sparrow, phoebe, robin… the spring chorus is already taking shape. Overhead, the calls of crows, their labored wingbeats.

Dave Bonta July 15, 2009

Bluer than blue sky, a perfect morning, and all I hear is a robin tut-tutting and a Carolina wren going Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up.

Dave Bonta July 3, 2009

A low, leaden sky. Leaves blow backwards. A robin on a dead branch at the edge of the yard turns to face the woods.

Dave Bonta June 16, 2009

A robin refurbishing an old nest lands each time on the lowest branch and labors up the ladder of limbs with his beakful of dead grass.

Dave Bonta June 5, 2009

Towhee, robin, catbird, great-crested flycatcher: birdsongs sound more vivid in the rain, like jazz solos rising over a surf of applause.

Dave Bonta May 26, 2009

Soft taps from a burdock leaf under the drip line: it’s raining. A rose-breasted grosbeak drops into the springhouse marsh to get a drink.

Dave Bonta May 25, 2009

Heavy traffic on the driveway: a baby bunny races back and forth, followed by a strolling pair of catbirds and a robin’s methodical hop.

Dave Bonta May 22, 2009

The Cooper’s hawk chases a redtail out of the woods—guided missile, staccato cry—and lands in a tall yard tree. The first yellow iris.

Dave Bonta May 9, 2009

Glimpses of a tanager, a catbird, two goldfinches, and a hummingbird taking a shit. Each tree is still in possession of its own green.

Dave Bonta April 22, 2009

Another cold morning. During a pause in the robin’s song, I can hear the spring peepers’ tireless ME ME ME ME ME down in the marsh.