“There she is,” I repeat as one of the females cruised low over the grasses. Dark against the evening sky, long winged. I admire her tawny red-brown feathers and powerful flight. I remember how the male looks, much smaller and silvery grey, and thus called grey ghost. The females get no name of such mystery. Red power.Read More
When we arrived home from a day in Philadelphia, the coyotes were howling and yipping in the fields to the east. Wild sounds. I want to be invited to that party.
The music outside is birdsong. The days are lengthening and the birds know it. I hear cardinal, chickadee, nuthatch, white-throated sparrow, song sparrow, Carolina wren, red-bellied woodpecker. I am restored.Read More