May 23, 2023 Dawn slips in at 48 degrees, still cool enough for flannel PJs, although I’m trading out my wool socks for numb toes. I pour coffee and fill feeders and the fountain pond, then take my seat under the porch while checking off the usual morning songs of kingbirds, flycatchers, and orioles. A single mockingbird thinks it’s a cactus wren, which sounds so much better than the car alarm or UPS truck.
I love all of the photos, Ken, but that inquisitive Fox Sparrow really won my heart.
As always, thanks for your postings!
Elizabeth Evans