I’m writing this on a Sunday morning and I have no set plans for the day, which is unlike me. I always like to have a plan, even if it’s just a loosey-goosey kind of thing. And I never say loosey-goosey so I have no idea where that came from. It’s cloudy today and I had thought it was forecast to be much nicer but as it turns out, yesterday was the prize of the weekend as far as weather is concerned. So I’m glad that I spent as much time outside as I did.
After my chores, and my grocery shopping, and my soup making, I went outside and sat in the snow and the sun with my camera and shot photos of my bird friends. Surprising, isn’t it? Hahaha.
I also did several loads of laundry and hung a couple of them on the line because it was so sunny. Hanging laundry on the line is a very calming thing. At least, it is for me. Plus, why waste power when the sun can do it for you, right?
These are some of my favorite images from yesterday ~
Tufted titmouse eyeing up one of the feeders.
A male cardinal who refused to come to the feeder because of my presence.
Cardinals are very skittish.
Tufted titmouse? Not so skittish.
They are no fools. They knew I had the good stuff in the one feeder.
The black-capped chickadee makes a lot of different noises for such a small bird.
The vocalizations of the Black-capped Chickadee are highly complex. Thirteen distinct types of vocalizations have been classified, many of which are complex and can communicate different types of information. Chickadees' complex vocalizations are likely an evolutionary adaptation to their habitat: they live and feed in dense vegetation, and even when the flock is close together, individual birds tend to be out of each other's visual range.
Hiding in the brush.
Chickadee on the wing.
The prize seed.
And the prize shot.
Tomorrow it’s supposed to snow again.
I am not crying uncle yet. It’s winter, people. It snows in winter.
It sure is a lot of work though, isn’t it?
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Hope your weekend is going well ~
I prefer winter and Fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape — the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show. ~Andrew Wyeth