Tuesday April 24th 2018Tim
sighting, he looks fit and well, his eyebrows
magnificent, and damn right he's ready for his high noon
performance. Our Mockingbird pair are intensely in love,
when he's not following her around and cooing in a
sometimes sickly way he's doing his best to locate nest
sites, I guess in the vernacular "they look cute
together." Tree Swallows are debating the merits of a
relocated nest box. Cowbirds have found the Robin nest.
A Phoebe, bright in dark places, has eggs to brood,
she's stubborn as a rock in the rafters which Barn
Swallows once owned.
whole thing with Matron Turkeys wandering the hay field
hunting down their nest site so they can lay in plenty
of time to contribute their eggs and sometimes
themselves to hay making, their nestlings to the diet of
Barred Owls or play-toys for a cat. I could go on about
the Goldfinch dressed in his best yellow, the blues of
the Boy Bluebirds, the flick of a Least Flycatcher's
tail, the folly of Doves in the barn, and the white
feather from what has to be a Barn Owl, but that would
be soppy, it would be wandering lonely as a supercilious
cloud, a host of golden Daffodils, when yes indeed I
belong to this.