My first yard bird

It sounds like a See spot run version for ranger marieke, I know. But I feel that I must honor these impossibly small, hardy beings so bent on survival. Dark-eyed Juncos greeted my arrival to my new home on Same Old Road. It didn’t take long for a Common Raven to discover the bags of groceries I left sitting on the ground behind the trunk of the car, either. The prized yard birds in these first few days have been the White-crowned and Golden-crowned Sparrows, the Steller’s Jay, and the Sandhill Cranes flying overhead (in my yard bird rule list, birds that fly over can be counted). The tragic yard bird was the perished American Robin lying prostrate on my back porch (not the greatest of omen for a birder moving into a new home), yet another victim of windows on human-made structures. I have left it there as a warning to its neighbors to keep far away from the windows.

Today was an a sunny, beautiful day in Southeast Alaska, and I stepped out onto my back porch after realizing my own hypocrisy, writing about the travesty of keeping workers cooped up inside on such a day as this and then finding myself sitting at my kitchen table typing away. I stepped outside and stretched my arms out to gather as much Vitamin D as my pale skin could handle, and from a distance I could just make out the howling of a wolf, in concert with the flight calls of Sandhill Cranes.

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