Tuesday, December 03, 2013
I have reached that point in the year where it is dark when I get home from work in the evening and nearly dark in the mornings when I leave. By the time I leave the cabin, only the earliest of the feeder birds have appeared—the cardinals and the nuthatch. The titmice and the chickadees have yet to put in an appearance. Out in the open, away from my feeders, only the crows are in evidence, though occasionally I still hear the twitter of a bluebird, perhaps yet at its hollow branch where several of them cuddle for the night.
I begin to feel like a vampire, seeing daylight only on the weekends. I don’t mind wandering around the mountain at night, but I confess I miss seeing birds and other animal activity that only comes with the day. This time of darkness doesn’t last too long, and for that I am grateful. I’m sure I wouldn’t mind it as much if I wasn’t confined to an office during most of the week. As someone who thrives on observing the natural world, I can tell you that not being able to observe much of it for a while isn’t easy for me. I feel I’m missing the most interesting part of the day.