My Birds


Bobolinks everywhere—especially in the apple trees—chortling their drunken song.

Brown thrashers collecting nesting material by blueberry bushes.

Oriole chasing crow from oak tree.

Indigo bunting perched on dead plum tree, excruciatingly blue.

Chestnut-sided warbler following me down the road.

Shy male wood ducks at Big Pond—no matter how quietly I approach, they fly.

Flicker calling from—blending in with—gray snag in pond.

Yellow-bellied sapsucker right outside the window!

Cute-faced peewee at margin of field and wood.

Song sparrows hidden in shadow of hay bale.

Blue jay perched forlornly on spiky plum branch.

Yellow warbler with saffron-colored necklace—reminds me of Nepalese markets’ piles of yellow and red curries.

Purple and house finches back in town, paired, and mating in the linden.

Wren family taking up the birdhouse in the bee yard.

Hummingbird back on its favorite perches: aged birch and dead ash by outhouse.

Robins nesting in tall white pine.

White-crowned sparrows in raspberry brambles.

White-throated sparrows rustling behind the shed.

Yellowthroat, high in the black locust, chest lit by morning’s brief sunlight—announcing himself proudly.

Redstart singing by Kroger’s Pond.

Great blue heron in slow-mo flight, carrying huge sticks toward nest site on northern ridge.

Catbirds flirting in the lilac bush.

Red-tailed hawk hovering over dandelion-covered field.

Canada geese calling beyond the tree-line.

Ovenbird heard, never seen.

Thrush crying its sad song at dusk.

Phoebes perched on the lawn chair, hunting by the barbed wire fence.

Mourning doves paired on telephone wire.

Mr. Bluebird waiting on a branch above the beehive.

Nighthawks calling, high in sky, as evening grows warmer.

Screech owl—I think—whimpering in the pine grove as Holsteins pass below.

Turkeys rushing away up the road ahead.

Swallows everywhere, testing their prowess along the surface of the pond.

Goldfinches chasing each other through tightly woven firs.

Rose-breasted grosbeak reminding me to put up the feeder.

Tufted titmouse waiting impatiently for his turn at the suet.

Chickadees playing chaperone as I get slightly lost in the forest.

Warblers and sparrows I can never find in the book.

These are the birds I belong to.

1 comment:

Thew said...

It is that time of year, ain't it?