The rarified ambience of an early summer evening.
The cumulus clouds that slowly move in the light blue sky.
The sun that sits in a corner of the sky like a dying campfire.
The special quality of the pre-sunset sunlight that illuminates the top of the trees.
The muted respectful staccato of the American robin and the low peaceful flute of the mourning dove.
The gentle breeze that blows the leaves and introduces a cooling air.
The sweet peas; the sweet peace; the sweet peas!
Baxter the bunny was only a few feet away from me leisurely munching on dandelion leaves in my back garden.
I spoke to him like Alec in the Black Stallion speaks to the horse; hoping to say something witty and charming in rabbit.
He looked at me head on and only rotated his long ears to hear the sound of birds or dogs.
At one point, he stood up on his hind legs; at another, he stretched his back.
All the while, he continued to enjoy his dandelion leaves. They disappeared efficiently into his mouth, regardless of the size of the leaves.
I felt honoured and privileged to share that time with him. He wasn’t scared of me and I was happy for that.
P.S. Rabbit in Persian translates to “donkey ears.” Sorry Baxter, it fits!
There were buttercups everywhere. The robins were dancing in them. And I was on a ten kilometre bike ride–great stress relief.
Along the trail there were homemade bird feeders. One of them looked like a Tiki hut. I was delighted and inspired.
Is there anything more relaxing than to sit by the willow trees and watch the barn swallows swoop down by the gently rippling water?
I don’t think so.
The American robin is the town crier. He announces the descending of the night.
He sings incessantly, sincerely, melodiously. He sings from the bottom of his heart.
All of a sudden, the meandering grey clouds slowly reveal the bright fingernail of a moon suspended over the darkened treetops.
I saw a male cardinal feeding his wife a piece of suet that he found this morning for breakfast. And I saw a common grackle taking a piece of suet to the bird bath and eating it with water. He thought, “I don’t know what this junk is, but it is likely to get stuck in my throat and kill me if I don’t wash it down with water.”
The male cardinal wins for ‘best husband’ and the common grackle wins for ‘smartest bird I saw this morning’.
The baby robin stood on the edge of the birdbath hesitating. He knew that he wanted to go in the water, but he was scared because it was his first time.
It reminded me of the time I was in the second grade and my beloved school teacher pushed me into the pool during a field trip when I didn’t want to go in. I didn’t like her after that.
Who is that having a breakfast of birdseed with the squirrel? It is Norman, the Norway rat.
Maybe it was all the weekly chips that Mom threw out the back door after her fish and chips, (before we moved in). Maybe it’s all the birdseed I thought I was putting out for the birds. But there was Norman, the Norway rat.
Kind-of-cute, except for his tail. He bounded away like a miniature kangaroo. Hopefully, if we stop feeding him, he will go away.
They are very romantic together; very affectionate.
They go out for a drink. They have some food. They preen themselves and each other; they make love and they spend the rest of the evening together on the telephone line.
They always have dates to go out for a drink together. They have ‘his’ and ‘her’ sides of the bird bath.
Mr. purple finch had a very long, animated and exquisitely beautiful one-sided conversation with his wife while hopping around her on the telephone line.