Birdfeeder

Ha. I was begining to compose an elegant response (er, rambling memoir about books used) to Spunky Primate's question about field guides, when I said to myself, What the heck is all that comotion out there? Oh, I see! The fishpond's little circulating pump keeps enough water liquid to appeal to:

cedar waxwings
robins
starlings.

They're all flitting and chortling and shooing each other out of the way. The yellow on the waxwings' tails is awesome in the bright sunshine, as they fly from the pond to the rose-of-sharon bush or power lines. It's hard to count them, though, because of peering around porch rails. If I go to the window over the pond, I'll scare them all, and the kitchen door screen is not much good for seeing through.



The mourning doves are hunched in the sun on my window ledge; the juncos are eating spilled seed on the ground. Some songsparrows and a pair of cardinals will eat at the feeder, but that's about it.