The fine print
All content copyright ©2002–2017 by David Walbert unless otherwise noted. All rights reserved, but I'm generally pretty nice about sharing, so feel free to ask.
The banner image is from Image taken from page 229 of Local Poetry. Songs and poems, relating to the town and county of Newcastle upon Tyne, or incidents connected therewith. Collected by T. Bell (1780), in the British Library, available via Flickr.
Tag Archives: birds
I like birds, as you may notice if you read much around here. I find them fascinating. I’m alternately amazed by and fearful for the complexity of habitats and migratory patterns; I worry about the impact on them of things … Continue reading
He said, “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord,’ as the prophet Isaiah said. —John 1:23 Perched in a crooked notch, the Cooper’s hawk, glass-eyed, staticky, reptilian, politely dismembers … Continue reading
I have four bird feeders in my small urban yard (tube, thistle, platform, hummingbird) but can’t see any of them from my second-story study window, which is veiled by a maple tree far taller than the house. So I fixed … Continue reading
For unintended shelter. The winter’s assaults of ice tore twigs from branches, branches from trees, trees from the earth, and some of us who could not abide the chaos chopped and raked the refuse into piles. Some of us who … Continue reading
For a cardinal that knows me. Early morning, poking round beneath the feeder for seeds and scraps the bumbling squirrels spilled, the cardinals see me coming but no longer scatter as they once did, or as the sparrows do. Generations … Continue reading
Photo by Virginia Sanderson. I’m pretty sure this isn’t theologically correct, but it seemed to help my daughter on our lunchtime walk today, when we found a tiny bird lying on the asphalt, crushed by a car. Lord, please guide … Continue reading
By nine the air already sweats. The sun, wearier today than once Climbs but slow, as travelers laden Struggle to heft again damp spirits, While all around our dizzied ears This primeval din the wood exudes— This moldering cacophony Swells … Continue reading
At the age of eight, Francie the Duck (Ret.) began turning into a drake. For eight years she had unquestionably been a hen, brown-feathered, egg-laying, but then she went through the change and now, two years later, her head feathers … Continue reading
Spring is entering its second act. The bluets are fading, the last of the dogwood flowers fluttered off today in the downpour, but the trees all have their leaves, the birds have paired off and spread out to claim their … Continue reading