The starlings are late this year. Yesterday they were doing their synchronized flying routines. Today they are sitting in the Douglas Firs, chattering away. There are lots of over-ripe apples still on the trees ready for the pecking.
The slate colored juncos have returned in great numbers, feeding on the crumbs of old duck food outside of the coop, flashing the outer white feathers of their tails as they fly away at my approach.
The flickers have made their winter nests under the eaves of the barns.
Song sparrows are having a field day in the rye grass.
Goldfinches have lost their summer yellow and are perched on the dead sunflowers.
For some reason the bluebirds are still hanging around. There were four in the spring. Now there are eight.
The Steller’s jays are harvesting the last of our filberts. One sits in the myrtle and gives me grief.
We are fogged in today and the dew is thick. Our ducks remember that slugs are good-eating.
Soon the towhees will come out of the woods across the street and forage under the dead leaves in our yard.
And we will not see the sun for three months.