Tree swallow among the sumach, gazing into the foggy ethereals!
I was poorly already, but when the word came down that one of our rarer warblers was eating bugs in Etobicoke, it became essential for me to spend 5 hours in and around the dirt, snitching along the creek, hoping for pop-ups, easy light, and pictorial sweetwindows. Anyhow, the Kentucky Warbler is an elegant little softy but he is a demon also, and I consider him at least partially responsible for the influenza which ensconced me like a blanket of cold and leggy spiders! But feisty mulchers, worry not: I am on the mend, am no longer agued, and will live to taxidermize and photograph the good Spring warblers yet again!
Another pleasant look at the simple but dressy Kentucky Warbler, seen some days ago in southeast Etobicoke. Then I got influenza and hid in my apartment, but now it’s time to go snitching again. P.S. The lamebrained composition was necessary because of problems to the left and right.
And you thought you had problems, etc.
And you thought you had problems, pt. 2
This plucky defender will torment hawks, eagles, and people! Were you ever startled by a sudden avian smash against your head? Probably this nasty guy was the culprit, bless him and bless you
At first I thought “Oh now, don’t be silly” but then I remembered that “once in a while, it’s all right to have a little fun.”
One of the good local breakwater ghosts
It’s always bad when the telephone rings:
Fear and dread, fear and dread!
Who dares to call me?
The screen reads HOSPITAL
Who is dead or who is dying?
I answer quickly: “HELLO!”
A very old and vanquished voice croaks “Varl? (Darl? Barl?”)
I ask it: “Who?”
Again it wheezes: “Varl? (Darl? Barl?”)
I tell it: “There’s no-one here like that; I’m sorry, but you have the wrong number.”
I fear the worst: reprisal; sudden shrieking; demonism!
But no, there is no pleading; only silence, then a message that my call has ended.
I’m sure my telephone will ring again. Who is Varl, Darl, or Barl?
But that was more than two days ago, and my telephone hasn’t rang since.
I consider a possible moral: If there is a universe, it doesn’t talk to me or you; sometimes a finger slips and that’s all!
P.S. Common Raven, absconding with a newborn from another class altogether
Most delightful are the hibernal longtail hens along the waterways of southeastern Toronto.
RE the plucky titmouse known as “chickadee”
my attitude was always
“I shall not deign to lift my lens to thee.”
BUT UPON ESPYING this winsome jinker in the yellow-oranges of autumn’s twiggery, I was behooved to ask myself “BUT BREAKFAST, HE IS BEAUTIFUL; WHY DO YOU ESCHEW THIS SCRAPPY BEAN?”
Poecile atricapillus, my feelings have changed!
Another look at the sparky titmouse known as “chickadee”
Happily found in one of the autumnal sweetpockets of The Old Country Spittoon.
I was looking for saw-whet owls. “They live in the conifers,” I’d heard, but I couldn’t find any. When disheartenment crept in, I waved it away with a recital of the pious snitcher’s maxim:
“The common birds have the most to teach us, so long as we let ourselves learn from them.”
Today, dear ones, I proffer these bright-light egrets embroiled in a territorial melee among the reverse-highlows and the greens
The reflective autumnal waterways will soothe and beguile! See the winsome shoveler on Toronto’s Grenadier Pond, making a life among the orange-water flora
And, a mallard among the reflective waterways in the very early morning:
I continue to compile photographic evidence which I hope will illustrate the badness of urban pond fishing. Kind compatriots, here is “Exhibit B”
Descending Kinglet among the twisty branches and the green and yellow color families
Hooded mergansers among the waterlines and early highlows:
A low-light look at a young least bittern, living prosaically among the mulchpiles and the stinkrocks; the heron family is full of friends
Young least bittern in Etobicoke:
A wider view of the toothsome “Ixobrychus exilis” thugging along the odoriferous rockpiles of loneliness and light: the heron family is full of friends