June 21: Solstice

summer solstice

sharing my strawberries

with a catbird

June 17: Nesting

nesting season

both catbirds

scolding the cat

June 11: Nesting

catbirds nest-making

in the sunny old garden

everything’s ok

June 2: Catbird seat

freedom of choice

sitting on the porch

to listen to the catbird

July 3: Glimpse

The Gray Catbird is, as its name might indicate, a smooth slate grey color all over, with a black cap. But its undertail coverts, which we glimpsed when it was feeding at a suet block hanging by our kitchen window, are a surprising rusty red. A bit like catching a glimpse of a nun's fancy underpants.

 

On the window feeder

catbird flashes us

his red undertail.

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May 25: Singing in the rain

spring rain

catbird singing loudly

through the open window

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June 30: Catbird

Does the cat understand

what the catbird has to say?

Does the willow?

 

 

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May 22: Anna's garden

Along the stone path
catbirds pose in the garden
as if they too were planned.

August 14: Blueberries

High-bush blueberries--
the mailman steals them
and here's the catbird...

July 7: Catbird cacophony

Our meeting pauses
when the catbird starts to sing
outside the office.

June 7: Catbird

Back in a dorm room--

catbird's song distracts me

from my memories.

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July 11: Ripening and blooming

This morning I had to laugh as a catbird emphatically "chuck-chuck chuck-chuck'ed" in the blueberry bush, staring at the hard green berries as if willing them to ripen. 

Later, at home, I collected a shirt full of cherry tomatoes from my hanging tomato plant, warmed by the sun and so sweet when popped in my mouth. Meanwhile, many of the flowers in my garden are in bloom or ready to bloom--the deep orange Embers of Vesuvius day lily is loaded with long buds, and the echinacea patch looks about ready to unfurl its petals and show its many faces.

Catbird and I, both

impatient for blueberries

just now blushing pink.

June 30: Youngsters

The other day a very motley-looking titmouse alit on my feeder. Instead of the smooth, plain gray that most titmice sport, this bird was patchy, with brown streaking on its belly and odd feathers sticking out here and there. It took me a few seconds to realize this was a fledgling, recently out of the nest. Already it has learned what a bird feeder is and how to make good use of it. Young-looking chickadees have been appearing at my feeder, as well.

This morning a catbird fledgling was perched on a post at the end of the driveway, whining to another bird waiting in a nearby tree. While the size of a mature bird, it too was a bit ragged around the edges, its sleek adult plumage not yet fully grown in. I've been hearing a catbird singing fragments of song outside my window the past week or so, and now wonder if that bird was a youngster--this one or a nest-mate--practicing its new singing voice.

Meanwhile, at river's edge, a young crow caws with an insistent, whiny pitch that any parent around the world would recognize as begging. On the river, a flotilla of geese, a few smaller and less distinctly patterned than the rest, heads upstream in a tight bunch.

And earlier this week, my two nieces, age three and six, returned to Maine with my sister and brother-in-law to spend the summer at their camp on a nearby lake.

Encouraged by warmth,
young birds try out new feathers,
children learn to swim. 

June 12: Morning catbird

Unusual for me, I woke at dawn, the light bright under the bedroom blind. Instead of falling back asleep, I lay there for a while listening to the rush of the river and the early birdsong. It seemed like such a luxury, to know I didn't have to get up for a few hours, to just stay in my warm, comfortable bed and enjoy the natural music outside.
 
Catbird's song at dawn--
how long can I lie in bed
simply listening?