I’m trying to take a breath. I’m trying to snatch some semblance of calm from the ten thousand stories that tell of the imminent end of so much that sane human beings love. I cannot bring myself to write the list because I would feel compelled to leave nothing out and that would strangle this moment.
We left a bare 50-foot maple in our yard. It died about 18 months ago – the buds stopped appearing, its limbs dried and fell. It brings in birds by the score. In death it encourages life.
Yesterday, I sat and watched for about a ½ hour and saw 15 species arrive, looping across the field, drifting from the road tree line, popping up from the neighbor’s, dropping like cliff divers from our big sycamores. This is a better list: a Rufous-Sided Towhee, several Redwings, Starlings, 2 Crows, 1 Vulture, 2 Red-Bellied Woodpeckers and a baby, 2 House Sparrows, Goldfinches, Purple Finches, a Nuthatch, 2 Mockingbirds, a Chipping Sparrow, Blue Jays, Mourning Doves, one Hairy Woodpecker. The wind blew all day from the northwest. Fat cumulus clouds came with it.
In such cool weather we keep all our windows open. We listen to their songs and calls all day.
