Rain. The endlessness of red-eyed vireo song. A drumming pileated woodpecker switches to a higher octave.
red-eyed vireo
August 20, 2024
Windy and cold, with the sun in and out of clouds. The Carolina wren’s usual enthusiasm sparks a red-eyed vireo to call exactly once.
July 30, 2024
A white sky with a bright gash of sun. The red-eyed vireo falls silent, leaving only two crickets, one who chirps and one who trills. Then, inevitably, the wren.
May 27, 2024
Dawn: a blurry moon just above the trees losing its glow. The wood thrush’s ethereal song gives way to a red-eyed vireo sounding like a wind-up bird, going at twice normal speed.
May 22, 2024
The sun finally clears the trees at 9:00. A bluebird and a phoebe call back and forth in the yard, an ovenbird and a red-eyed vireo talk over each other in the woods, and in the valley, traffic, a tractor, a train.
May 13, 2024
After so many gray days, the clarity of the air and the quality of light moving through new leaves feel miraculous. A red-eyed vireo’s lyrical harangue.
August 25, 2023
After a soggy night, a few more raindrops and then some brightening. A vireo starts up. The lowest branch on the tulip tree has turned yellow.
June 19, 2023
Monday morning: back to the literal grind from the quarry. The red-eyed vireo’s usual spell makes nothing happen. A loose strand of spider silk catches the sun.
May 9, 2023
“Light rain” turns out to mean a shimmer of mizzle. The forest belongs once again to the preacher bird—red-eyed vireo—and the ovenbird chanting teacher teacher teacher.
August 27, 2022
Under a clearing sky, nuthatch and vireo still claim and declaim. A black cherry tree, having dispensed its fruit, is turning a dull orange.
August 22, 2022
Overcast with a shimmer of light rain. A red-eyed vireo still calls at the woods’ edge. The thud of a black walnut onto a roof.
August 13, 2022
45F/7C at sunrise. I carry a chair up into the woods, watch sunlight seep down the oaks with color commentary by a red-eyed vireo.
August 27, 2021
Fog. A quiet gurgle from the stream, still digesting last night’s downpour. The only other song belongs to a vireo.
August 8, 2021
Walnut leaves have begun to yellow, as leaf miners turn the locust trees brown. A red-eyed vireo warbles on and on.