Journeyman

it came out of the wordwork

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Birds in the early morning mist
Yard Iggle
kinzel
By 4:15 or so this morning the world outside our country home was ruled by fog -- and it was light enough to see it, and see in it. Five or six flowers in the butterfly garden which had been promising to pop and unfurl in the dim light of yesterday's rain had found the energy on the overnight and were already beckoning whatever winged creatures might take note in the mist.

The question is, was the sourceless light illuminating the world just short of newspaper-reading-bright the reason the birds were so damn active? I could hear strident doves and rushing robins, and in the distance, the sound of a dozen crows trying out for the remake of The Giant Claw.

The quiet of the country world? Sometimes not so much. At least this morning the opening sound was not that of the shotguns blowing holes in moose or hunter, nor yet the idyllic  chainsaw buzz, nor the rumble of tractor dumping manure on local fields, all of which have greeted other mornings in the time since we've been home from the conventions....

And really, who knew that chickadees add so many decibels to the din?

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