Saturday, February 26, 2011


We once lived at the edge of a small ravine. Cedar and pine, vine-maple and thimble berry grew in a tangled green thicket just beyond the fence. Those woods were alive with small birds.
We hung feeders and our dining room window soon framed an ever changing flutter of wings and bright black eyes; sociable chickadees, acrobatic nuthatch, scarlet house finch and exotic grosbeak.
The air resonated with whistle, trill, chirp and buzz. Song bird symphony.

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