Friday, December 02, 2005
King For A Day?
I heard a bird sing
in the dark of December,
a magical thing,
and sweet to remember.
We are nearer to spring
than we were in September.
I heard a bird sing
in the dark of December.
_________________
-Oliver Herford-
As we enter winter, the birds usually become quiet, flitting through the brush like so many little ghost birds, but today as I walked across the yard, I was greeted by the loud Cherry Cherry Cherry call of a Carolina wren right above my head. I looked up to see two males feinting at each other, each undoubtedly trying to stake out the back yard as their territory, with its suet feeding station. This lovely southern wren, larger than our common Jenny wren, is a brighter, cinnamon brown, with a prominent white stripe above the eye. It was unkown to me in my childhood, a childhood of winters buried in drifts of snow, with subzero temperatures. With the milder winters we have had recently, this wren has expanded its territory northward, though I suspect we are about at the limit of its survivability, and it is said that a harsh winter will cause them to die off. With the start of this December shaping up, according to long term forecasts, to include one of the ten coldest starts since records have been kept (we are running twenty degrees below normal), I fear the winner of today's fight may be a king for a day... guess I'll go refill the suet feeder.
in the dark of December,
a magical thing,
and sweet to remember.
We are nearer to spring
than we were in September.
I heard a bird sing
in the dark of December.
_________________
-Oliver Herford-
As we enter winter, the birds usually become quiet, flitting through the brush like so many little ghost birds, but today as I walked across the yard, I was greeted by the loud Cherry Cherry Cherry call of a Carolina wren right above my head. I looked up to see two males feinting at each other, each undoubtedly trying to stake out the back yard as their territory, with its suet feeding station. This lovely southern wren, larger than our common Jenny wren, is a brighter, cinnamon brown, with a prominent white stripe above the eye. It was unkown to me in my childhood, a childhood of winters buried in drifts of snow, with subzero temperatures. With the milder winters we have had recently, this wren has expanded its territory northward, though I suspect we are about at the limit of its survivability, and it is said that a harsh winter will cause them to die off. With the start of this December shaping up, according to long term forecasts, to include one of the ten coldest starts since records have been kept (we are running twenty degrees below normal), I fear the winner of today's fight may be a king for a day... guess I'll go refill the suet feeder.
// posted by IBOY @ 11:37 AM 
