May evening

Last evening was beautiful—sunny, calm, great visibility, perhaps a tad cool but that’s splitting something at least as fine as a hair. I was off the mountain for much of the evening. Although that means I didn’t get to sit on the deck, coffee in hand and watch the sun set, I did get to enjoy the sights around the area, which was nearly as enjoyable.

The night brought near-record cold for this time of year and threatened a frost, though I didn’t see any. I tossed an old blanket over the litter box/chicken coop, gave the girls a hot water bottle and hoped all would be well. This morning the chickens all seemed fine. Last night’s chill marks the end of chilly weather for a bit. Warmer weather and sun is on the way for the next several days, which my mini-container garden will much appreciate, I’m sure.

The last of the summer migrants—the peewees--have arrived now. I love their little "pee-a-wee" call. They are the first and last singers of the day, their haunting call carries and echoes through the forest when it is nearly fully dark. At that time of day, their call is often the only sound I hear. No distant vehicle or people noises, no sounds of other birds or animals. That’s why their song carries so well and is heard over a long distance.

The rest of the forest is asleep when the peewees call. They sing before everyone and everything else is awake or after the bustle of the day is over. Perhaps because they are such tiny birds, evolution favored them a little when their call didn’t compete with other sounds and songs. In any event, now that they are here, spring migration is officially over on Roundtop. Oh, perhaps some stray warbler will still pass, but all the regular species are now accounted for, and the forest symphony is reaching its crescendo.