Country Music

It's only February, and already, the air is filled with music.

Flocks of robins have been here for over a week now. 

 They settle on the birdbaths  in the mornings...

...and perch on the supplejack.

  The trees and sky overhead are alive with their flights.

Winterberry trees, above the edges of the lake,
have been almost stripped of their shiny red berries,
and in the woods, the cedar berries are nearly gone.

In exchange for this food, these birds enrich everyone's lives with their melodies.

Tufted Titmouse

Robins aren't the only birds singing just now, but I think they started it,
and the others have been emboldened by their example.

At night, coyotes sing a varied repertoire.
Soon, the screech owls will join them with their eerie music,
as they search for their mates.

Last night, as I walked toward the pond, I heard a solo peep from a spring peeper,
one of those small vocal tree frogs, and then an unmistakeable trill.
A second frog backed up the virtuoso, and then another joined in,
before the full chorus saturated the night air.

When I first moved to this quiet place from the city, I thought I would miss the concerts.

Little did I know.




Linking with
Wild Bird Wednesday.