They weren't crows. I knew that, but "crows" sounded better in that line than "Bohemian Waxwings" which is what they are. They migrate through here this time of the year, and "harvest" all the Mountain Ash berries from our landscape.
They're all perched up there again, now, in the last hour of sunlight for today. I looked at them through the binoculars. They are all puffed out into little round balls, their feathers fluffed to keep out the cold.
I often think that birds have a hard life. Imagine building your house with your mouth! Imagine raising four or five offspring at a time, all with wide open mouths hollering, "MORE FOOD!!!MORE FOOD!!!"
They're all perched up there again, now, in the last hour of sunlight for today. I looked at them through the binoculars. They are all puffed out into little round balls, their feathers fluffed to keep out the cold.
I often think that birds have a hard life. Imagine building your house with your mouth! Imagine raising four or five offspring at a time, all with wide open mouths hollering, "MORE FOOD!!!MORE FOOD!!!"
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