Wednesday November 6th 2013 Tim
Cedar Waxwings paused on their way south.
About thirty of them. They fed happily upon Juniper berry. Gave
some consideration to Privet and Rose Hips, and were finally chased into
a Maple by the House Mockingbird, who is now obsessed by a Red Tail who
has taken to hunting Rabbit.
Wax Wings are soft to look
at. They have a gentleness one associates with those in my own species who
are wholly out of touch. A superior air, I could call it. In the Maple
they were quite noiseless, the very opposite of Starlings, but a person
could see the conversations between them. Some conversations sufficiently
vehement to require wing gestures.