Those of you who know me well know that I am officially an unofficial bluebird trail monitor. My Person is officially official but she couldn't monitor the trail without me. She eyes the stuff up high and I keep my nose to the ground and between us we do a good job.
Today we saw newly hatched bluebirds in their nest box and also a tree swallow who was so devoted to its egg clutch it refused to leave when we peered in the nest box. Such brave creatures birds are!
On the way home we walked across the Mississippi River, using a helpful bridge of course, and looked down over the riverside tree canopy stretching out below us. A cowbird, that much maligned songbird (look it up, you can start with the westward movement and the slaughter of the plains buffalo herds and you end up with this little bird living in my city, humans are the problem as usual) was perched on the bridge railing, calling in distress and looking out at the trees as well. Suddenly a cooper's hawk lifted up out of the trees, a bird in its talons.
I guess we saw it all this morning: a homeland lost for one species and regained for another and the cycle of life and death played out before us by our fellow creatures.
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