Eastern Phoebe

I’m at the cabin this morning sitting on this screen porch I wrote about a few years ago in my book Within These Woods (2015) Riverfeet Press. An Eastern Phoebe is flitting around and talking to me as it had been five or six years ago. I’m assuming it is an offspring of the oneContinue reading “Eastern Phoebe”

When Life is for the Birds

When it feels like life is for the birds I like to sit quietly on my deck and watch the birds. The chickadees come, usually one at a time, their actions conveying some kind of internalized guilt. They flit in, a few wing beats at a time interspersed with gliding, land on the feeder, lookContinue reading “When Life is for the Birds”