Robin Song

Drab morning under a gray sky; a cold, southeast breeze chills my face. A robin sings its cheery spring song, another robin chuckles, while a third one sounds an alarm call from the woods.

Crows on Morning Foray

Six crows fly east across the field, while a more raucous group of eight circle Bald Hill, land on the tallest pines, then fall silent. A light wind carries no foul odors.

Phoebe arrived in our yard today.

Light Rain

Light rain and mid-40s overnight; one spring peeper on the road--dead. Sweet fragrance of fresh wood chips, the remnants of Asplundh's clearing of the powerline along our road yesterday. Woodcock continue to rule the predawn songscape.