Walking in beauty
Last night, in the grove, I was walking in beauty. The western tanagers are in town — those winged jewels that pass through seasonally. The first time I ever saw them they appeared as a full flock wheeling on the banks of a remote desert river, improbably brilliant against the browns, greys and greens of that land.
Scanning the tops of the sagebrush on the hills beside the grove, I spotted numerous of western meadowlarks. Possibly my favorite bird, if only for their musical song which fills long distances with the sound of falling water.
The evening air also carried the soft, throaty coos of the mourning doves. I saw two mating just the other night.
Two great horned owls sat basking in the light of the lowering sun. I didn't have my camera with me to capture that incredible view, nor the one of the fox that crossed the path, alert but apparently not bothered by such proximity to humans.
Photos found here, here, here, and here.