catbird – Page 6 – The Morning Porch

July 6, 2009

Dave Bonta July 6, 2009

A catbird dive-bombs a small buck with stubby velvet antlers. He runs toward a doe who chases him back, her fawn dancing along behind.

Dave Bonta July 1, 2009

Everything drips; I don’t notice that the rain has stopped until the sun comes out. A burst of song from phoebe, catbird and Carolina wren.

Dave Bonta June 28, 2009

The pasture rose in front of my wall bears two white blossoms: bindweed raising its flared trumpets to the white sky. The smell of rain.

Dave Bonta June 23, 2009

The catbird sails in and out of the lilac without interrupting his stream of song. Oak leaves glossy as mirrors; the sky so blue it hurts.

Dave Bonta June 17, 2009

Breezy, overcast, a spit of rain—these reports never seem complete without the weather. The buzz of a hummingbird. A common yellowthroat.

Dave Bonta June 13, 2009

Gray sky. The lilac catbird lands beside the porch to scold me, as if it had just become aware of my presence. Its young must’ve fledged.

Dave Bonta June 12, 2009

The sky is pretending to be blue, but I don’t buy it. A hummingbird may land on a dead branch, but that’s the only green it’s going to get.

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 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 12, 2009

April’s solitary vireo and brown thrasher have been replaced by red-eyed vireo and catbird—an adagio movement giving way to an allegro.

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 August 9, 2008

50°F. A daddylonglegs descends a goldenrod stem, slow as the minute hand on a clock. A catbird bursts from the lilac, crackling with alarm.

Dave Bonta July 10, 2008

A phoebe darts and hovers, gleaning insects off the wet weeds. Yesterday, I watched a phoebe help feed four catbird fledglings in the lilac.

Dave Bonta June 28, 2008

The catbird sounds self-critical, adding a brief aside after every phrase. The chipping sparrow’s never-ending alarm sets a cricket off.