Our day is now complete. We have gazed into the secret inner world of a tulip and she has whispered her secrets to us.
Don’t you simply thrill to hear what her perfume says? She urges us to linger in the moment and to expect the unexpected. She insists that life is beautiful (even though she has her moments with those pesky insects and droughts and wilting heat and freezing cold and the way her petals disappear in the autumn.)
OK, I’m backing up to yesterday. Or maybe the day before. Too many stories to tell in one blog. Too many photos to show in one day. You almost want to tell Life to slow down until you can hatch all the stories. (No, Life! I didn’t mean it. Don’t slow down. You show such delicious stories every single day…)
See the bird perching on the window sill? Actually, I do believe he showed up on Sunday morning because neither Barry nor I were at work. We had just discussed the pregnant does in the yard, munching grass, looking like they might give birth eminently.
And in case you don’t know–our does give birth around Memorial Day weekend. Every year, rain or shine, they birth those spotted beautiful fawns in our forest. Then they leave them. That’s right. You read that sentence correctly. They leave them while they go forage or do whatever deers do. The babies lie motionless beneath the trees or in grasses, waiting for mama to return. Apparently, newborn fawns have no scent. Predators don’t eat them for dinner too often.
Every once in a while, a human will stumble across a motionless forest fawn. Do not pet. Do not come too close. Just hope you have your camera. Someday it will happen to me again. And this time the camera will be ready. Someday.
Back to the bird in the above photo (I actually wrote the rest of the blog without ever returning to discuss the Mystery Bird. Coming back now to tell you the scoop. We had never seen that kind of bird before. Ever. It kept coming pecking at the windowsill. We cruised the bird identification books faithfully. Finally–an identification! The bird most certainly is an American Redstart. I will look for an on-line photo for you to compare and hopefully agree. OK, click here for dozens of photos.)
Now comes the dead bird series. All you squeamish folk–turn away. Turn away now. Go to a civilized blog where they don’t show photos of dead animals. This blog has never claimed to be civilized.
Or, as Dawn suggested in yesterday’s comments: have a glass of wine first. Then peek.
I found the seagull just before yoga class. Of course had to lean down and examine the poor bird. Wonder about the circumstances of its death. Felt sad. Reached for the camera. Because it seemed to lie in such strange repose. Don’t you think?
Imagine my surprise upon arriving home to discover a dead finch. What was this? The day of the dead birds? This one, I’m pretty certain, had struck a window and died.
Since we can’t end this blog on a morbid note, here is one photo of still waters beside the dead bird. A beautiful morning to be alive…
As for tomorrow’s post: you’re never going to believe it. Suzi from Laundry Line Divine arranged a play date. Never mind that she lives somewhere Out East. We were going to “play” today at 12:30 p.m. Go visit her blog and see if you can guess what we were doing. What this blog is going to be about tomorrow night…