Thank you, Dogwood
I can’t decide whether it’s their polka-dotted chests, eager dark eyes, the mighty way they rip the berries off the twigs, or how fast they swallow that bright red sugar bomb that I like most. I’m a bird addict. Knowing they’re there by a sound or a glimpse or even a shaking branch brings instant joy. Right now I think it’s the sound that won’t let me go: the swift drumming wings of nearly-weightless bodies dodging their way through branches to alight then toss themselves into the air again. Such rapid, acrobatic flight! They are wild, crazy flyers, not afraid of me as spring birds are when I stand on the back porch so close to the dogwood trees. For these birds, our yard is a purposeful stop in a long journey with a tight schedule. I was lucky enough to get a close up view of several wood thrushes (polka dot chests, coppery backs, not pictured) because they were close to the kitchen window when I was making my tea this morning. From the back porch I’ve also seen a black and white warbler, a not-like-any-that-I-know woodpecker, and two kinds of mainly yellow birds, one of which I’m pretty sure was a female Scarlet tanager (see blurry picture above). But I’ve given up on the ID-ing. I’m just in awe of the Dogwood for having all those tantalizing berries. Oh, here are more birds —five, seven, more like twelve of them. It’s hard to count the shaking branch ends, the tufts of trembling leaves that hide their bodies as they come and go. I’ve tried to photograph, to video, but watching is what I end up doing, phone in pocket, binoculars hanging unused in my left hand. How can I do anything else? Dark is coming. Tomorrow morning the berries and the birds may be gone. Continue reading