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A cold morning.—a mere 15 or 16 degrees (F) when first I checked. No wonder the buds hold back a bit at this latitude. Just before dawn, I heard the pleasant song of a white-throated sparrow from the little north thicket—calling out "old Sam Peabody, Peabody, Peabody," as the records speculate. Then I heard another, with somewhat of a lower voice. Mingling with this white-throat duet: the squeak of a goldfinch, the love songs of chickadees, and the rasps of the resident starling. When it emerged from the bay, the sun's light burst orange against the trunks of the trees and the backs of the soaring gulls. | |||||
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Bird Report is a discursive, intermittent record of what's outside my window in Rockport, Maine, USA (44°08'N latitude, 69°06'W longitude). —Brian Willson | |||||
©1997-2012 by 3IP |