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.
phoebe
A hummingbird grooms itself in the middle of a downpour while a phoebe plucks insects from the side of the dead elm, hovering in place.
The rending of a limb or small tree down in the hollow, followed by… nothing. A phoebe sings a few bars of his old song and falls silent.
A phoebe darts and hovers, gleaning insects off the wet weeds. Yesterday, I watched a phoebe help feed four catbird fledglings in the lilac.
The flower heads on the white lilac are half-brown now. Two phoebes take turns flying into the bush, momentarily quelling insistent peeps.
The snow is gone (again) and the first phoebe circles the barn and shed, expressing his satisfaction with the location, location, location.