A good morning

Today was a good morning for sunrise photos.
Today was a good morning for a sunrise.
Today was a good morning.

Deer eyes greeted me this morning, shining in the gleam of my headlamp, one of the foxes, too. The crows watch them, pausing in the treetops for a few moments, just to make sure they aren’t up to anything tricky.

Even before sunrise, when the stars were already gone and the sky just pale, crows argued above the trees. Small flocks of unidentifiable little birds slipped overhead, followed by a flock of 19 robins. They are heading south, all of them, soon to be gone until another turning of the year. They hurry, as though there isn’t much time.

Migration was getting off to an early start this morning. I could feel it too, though how much more must those with wings sense the change in the air and feel that certain something in the wind that says, “head south” to them. I don’t feel the urge to head south, but I can tell when the day is right, when the wind is right. This morning, the wind is right.

I don’t mind that I stay behind, while they are urged to the south. The mountain becomes a different place when they are gone, so in a way I am in a different place, too, even though I haven’t left.

At the cabin, Pig the raccoon made another appearance last evening, precisely at 8:05 p.m., which was the same time he appeared the night before. Last night, I saw him in mid-leap, followed by a heavy plop when he leaped and failed to reach the hanging suet feeder. That’s what too much bird seed will do to a raccoon. Baby Dog was outraged (again!) and again I was on the telephone during Pig’s arrival. What must people think? That I’m attacked nightly by aliens? Or wolves? To hear Baby Dog, you’d think it must be something at least that dangerous.