We took our first camping trip of the year at the Pawnee National Grasslands. That area is supposed to provide a magnificent night sky and we went in hopes of seeing the meteor shower. Turns out we didn’t put much effort into the sky because the high winds made it unpleasant. So unpleasant, in fact, that we came home a day early.
The good news is, there was a lull in the wind on Thursday evening and we walked the trails around the Crow Valley Campground. The lighting was divine as birds serenaded us. Here’s a Red-winged Blackbird in song:
And here’s an American Robin singing as it perches on the fence next to a couple of the MANY tumbleweeds in the area (which I either leapt over or plowed through when running on the trails the next morning):
Here’s a Western Meadowlark singing its heart out:
This last one–Turkey Vulture– was silent, but it was a thrill when Zippy spotted it because on our maiden voyage last April, a whole bunch of Turkey Vultures roosted above our campervan.
Others may disagree, but I consider a Turkey Vulture sighting a good omen for the coming camping season.
Every morning, I open the bedroom window for about fifteen minutes to allow fresh air inside. It feels good to replace the stale with cold and invigorating air that wakes me up both mentally and physically. This morning’s ritual brought an unexpected bonus: a robin’s serenade.
February 2, 2022
While I never did locate where the robin perched outside, it was delightful to stand at the open window and drink in those lyrical notes. It’s only early February, but for a brief time, spring was in the air.
Only one of these robins is in focus, but I don’t think there’s mistaking the other’s mood which can only be described as angry-bathing.
November 14, 2021
There, all better.
November 14, 2021
November 3, 2020
Caught in the moment
very unbirdlike posture
robin by Dalí ?
American Robin. February 12, 2021
Birds are the most popular group in the animal kingdom. We feed them and tame them and think we know them. And yet they inhabit a world which is really rather mysterious. ~ David Attenborough
I feel a kinship with this robin peering out from the vegetation and wish I could hunker down in a like manner. I dread what comes next. Neoliberalism cannot defeat white supremacy because the two are deeply entwined. I believe this is what’s known as a recipe for disaster.
American Robin in Grand Island, NE. June 2, 2020.
I wouldn’t fault anyone in search of a four-leaf clover right right about now.
American Robin. January 21, 2020.
A wind has blown the rain away and blown the sky away and all the leaves away, and the trees stand. I think, I too, have known autumn too long. ~ e.e. cummings
Having trouble focusing today. Still haven’t started my NaNoWriMo writing and just had a mini-meltdown. However, the universe then gifted me this robin in our birdbath and for several minutes, I aimed my camera and forgot everything else.
American Robin. November 3, 2020.
This attitude? It me.
American Robin. December 16, 2019.
This photo was taken last December, but it feels fitting for today because the robin is looking to the north. As I write this, people are being evacuated north of here due to the East Troublesome Fire that exploded from about 35,000 acres to 127,000 acres after 60 mph wind gusts last night. The fire jumped the Continental Divide. Rocky Mountain National Park is on fire. Homes are burning. East Troublesome Fire is currently the fourth-largest wildfire in Colorado history.
Colorado has been on fire with multiple wildfires for the last four months but I’m told I must vote for the presidential candidate who believes climate change is real, yet keeps telling us he opposes a Green New Deal and won’t ban fracking. I’m told I must help the Democrats reclaim the Senate by voting for the candidate who drank fracking fluid and opposes a Green New Deal. It doesn’t matter to them that I’ve spent much of those past four months inside as my lungs can’t handle the smoky air; I owe them my vote.
I’m angry and exhausted and just about cried out.
American Robin. Rock Island, IL. June 4, 2020.
Could be take-off or
coming in for a landing
that feather’s no clue
This photo is from earlier this month during a foray into the open space with my blanket and camera. It was taken from quite a distance and, at the time, I thought I was looking at two magpies. It wasn’t until I downloaded my photos that I realized it was one Black-billed Magpie and one American Robin.
Open space. April 1, 2020.
In the majority of the pictures of these two, the birds face the same direction, as if their heads swiveled in unison. Magpies get a bad rap for aggression, so it’s nice seeing this peaceful coexistence.
American Robin. February 14, 2020.
You have to believe in happiness,
Or happiness never comes …
Ah, that’s the reason a bird can sing –
On his darkest day he believes in Spring.
~ Douglas Malloch
American Robin. January 21, 2020.
Glance over shoulder
say Good-bye, January
brighter days ahead
December 16, 2019
The very idea of a bird is a symbol and a suggestion to the poet. A bird seems to be at the top of the scale, so vehement and intense is his life, large-brained, large-lunged, hot, ecstatic, his frame charged with buoyancy and his heart with song.
~ John Burroughs
Bockman Campground, State Forest State Park. June 12, 2019.
Nothing in the world is quite as adorably lovely as a robin when he shows off – and they are nearly always doing it.