Yesterday's rain and dim light lasted much of the day. This picture of a Swainson's thrush is barely worth posting, but I have a soft spot for thrushes, so here s/he is. This morning very early, I heard one plaintive flute trill in the half-light. I'm not any good at differentiating thrushes by ear, so I can't say if it was the little Swainson's. I lifted my head off the pillow and opened one eye (why does that help to hear better?) but then a loud pushy bluejay announced his arrival, and I heard no more from the thrush!
Late in the afternoon, it cleared and brightened, and that 's when a small flock of American goldfinches showed up at the niger feeders, the males burning like bright little suns all their own. I love this shot of the male and female pair - has she fallen head over heels for him, or is it just because of the seed port location?
The tiny bunch of white-throated sparrows has moved on. One day was all they spent here, but I always keep one in my library. It started one day when I was wandering around a craft store, I saw an unpainted wooden birdhouse, and an idea formed. Next aisle over I found a small decorative bird with pink and purple feathers. I painted the birdhouse sky blue and dabbed some sponge trees on the sides, and repainted the bird to look like a white-throat. Then I took a popsicle stick (orange-flavor, I think it was) and glued it across the front with the homeowner's name written on it. I don't think white-throated sparrows nest in houses; mine may be the only one.
The Cloud Messenger (Meghadūta) is a lyric poem by the respected Indian poet, Kālidāsa. The poem centers around a yaksa in exile. Longing for his beloved, waiting for him on a Himalayan mountain, he asks a cloud to take a message to her. The sights he tells the cloud it will see on its way make up most of the poem.
The idea of recording observations appeals to me. I thought The Cloud Messenger was the perfect title for a blog about the journey that we all make as we move through our days.
I'm a baby boomer who grew up dancing in the streets of Detroit during the classic Motown years, lived beside the Rocky Mountains for many years, now retired and living (and writing full time) in S. Ontario. I have one blog for rock 'n' roll oldies, and one for nature, poetry and life along the Lake.