I awoke to a lovely rain outside. It is warm and muggy now, unusual for us, and the rain was driven by a north wind, which is even more unusual. Between showers I heard a new bird song in the neighborhood that I thought might be a Black-headed Grosbeak. Or maybe a Bullock’s Oriole, I always confuse the two. The bird sounded like it was outside the window; I found it two blocks away, singing from the top of a dogwood. Black headed Grosbeak. It’s song is like a Robin on speed, and loud.
During my morning run I heard another new arrival: the Wilson’s Warblers are here. I heard a half dozen of them on my route. An Anna’s Hummingbird perched on a wire; I heard its garbled buzz before I spied it. They now feed on the comfrey plant outside my window, ignoring the feeder immediately adjacent. The bird feeders are largely abandoned now, everyone is on territory and there are better eats to be gleaned from the bugs in the trees.
A Bewick’s Wren lives behind Elly’s garage. There’s a pair of Bushtits that I think are nesting behind Chris and Sandy’s place. There are a lot fewer House Finches than I ever remember seeing--I can detect only one territory in earshot. I haven’t found a Robin’s nest this year, in the past I have found one in the laurel hedge up the hill. Most of the local birds won’t be successful nesters. The numerous loose cats and the resident crow pair see to that. One of the crows drinks out of the gutter over my front door, and I can hear the thump and clatter of its feet on the metal when it lands. I am warily friendly towards it in the way one wants to stay on the good side of the neighborhood thug.
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