Out this morning for a wizzbang warbler wander...
So what did we find? A golden-winged blinging like a tricked out chickadee. A palette of hyperactive redstarts painting the hackberries. A few limey-green Chestnut-sided's cock-tail sure of being cute-- and a short-tailed Tennessee--or maybe two. A few tiny parulas paraded through the trees and a wormy wearing the finest browns stopped longed enough to please. There was a lemon yellow-hooded that blazed like the sun--and by 8:15 y'all the warbler-ing work was done...
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| Charlie Harper's "Mystery of the Missing Migrants" |
As the day closes --evening sun slipping--slipping to somewhere low. There's a skulking thrush whispering in a woodland--somewhere waiting for the first stars to show. A world of winged wanderers will soon begin to stir--turning attention southward-- trusting wings and what they know. A mysterious magnet will direct them through the dark-some pull we don't possess --I marvel at the feathered bundles that pass this arduous test...
Ponder deeply the migrant streams -passing o'er as you dream --and wake to hope the courageous thrush finds forest refuge--big and dark and deep.
Noticing,
Drew
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