While up the road in Northport they awoke to snow this morning, here in Camden it's a grey, cold, but otherwise uneventful day in terms of weather. The empty sky plays a blank white backdrop for red maple buds. Other than a squirrel poised on a tree trunk waving its tail with the frantic energy of a parade-going kid with a flag, the back yard is quiet as the sky. Up the river at my parents' house, however, it's a different story. The pine and birch trees around their house are full of birdsong--a clamoring chorus of primarily goldfinches and purple finches, accompanied by a brown creeper, a handful of blackbirds, and what sounded like a trilling chipping sparrow. A lively bunch over there. Goldfinch music comprises long, voluble, and varied bursts of chattering, mewing, and chirping. I'm not sure why they're all so wound up, because unlike most songbirds, they won't breed and nest until mid-summer. Maybe they're just excited to have back their bright yellow plumage and to be able to enjoy the progressively longer days. Or maybe all that singing helps keep them warm. In any case, the crazy cacophony of all those birds injected the proper note of excitement into my husband's birthday morning.
Paul's birthday highlights:
sunbursts of forsythia,
yellow finch singing.
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