Date: 6/29/20 6:39 am
From: Ted Levin <tedlevin1966...>
Subject: [VTBIRD] June 29, 2020: Coyote Hollow, Thetford Center
5:10 a.m. 62 degrees, wind NW 2 mph. Sky: cloud clotted, thick, low, and
without highlights; columns and tendrils of fog merge with the floor of the
sky; visibility curtailed. A thick river of fog traces the course of the
East Branch of the Ompompanoosuc. Truncated worldview: vivid green and
saturated; leaves washed and shiny. Inside the woods, away from the open
road, fairy tale darkness. From crown to ground, rain streaks on tree
trunks; some wide, some narrow. Permanent streams infused and on the move;
upper gurgles; lower murmurs. But neither approach late April standards and
without more rain will likely dry out . . . again.

Birds enthusiastic. Juncos trilling. Thrushes fluting. Black and white
warbler whispering. Black-throated blue warblers buzzing. House wrens
chattering. Ovenbirds screaming. Catbird, a mockingbird with imagination,
inventive and not inclined to mimic, never repeats the same phrase in
succession. Crows cawing. Doves cooing. Out of the gloom, barred owl
hooting. Chestnut-sided warblers rambling. Yellowthroats whistling. Hairy
woodpecker in the uppermost branch of a skeletal birch, muted. Phoebes,
distinctly guttural, as though clearing their throats. Tanagers and bittern
hushed and hidden. Pewee a dispirited whistle. Jays complaining; chicks
beg. June on the threshold July, summer ripening.

Coyote Hollow, my topographic intimacy; a personal panorama endlessly
revised and edited by eons by erosion and natural selection. A thousand
dramas, big and small; a thousand solutions. Years pass like minutes.
Decades like hours. A pileated flys into unmarred emptiness followed by his
voice.
 
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