Good Thing There Was No Traffic!

On my way to the Lake Cheston upper parking lot, I cruised by the farm, noticing a whole lot of birds in the big double-tree (one of them's a flowering tree of some kind) across from the baseball field. In another ten yards, I screeched to a halt, backed up, drove into Old Farm road to turn around, raced back by the tree, stopped the car, looked again, then drove into Cobb Lane like a madwoman, pulled into the grass, and leapt out, leaving the car running.

Cedar Waxwings! Lots of them!

Craning my neck, I looked upwards and started snapping. Soon, I noticed a retired professor (who was walking the dogs) stop on the sidewalk across the street. "Cedar Waxwings!" I shouted. "I saw them when I was passing and turned right around." "You knew what they were from you car?" "Not at first, but when I got to the road up to the hoophouses, I realized what they were." "There sure are a lot of them," he said and walked on.

I stopped counting at 42. Some flew off, many stayed, others returned. Too high for a really sharp photo, but not too high to miss and never too high to enjoy.

A Bit of Cheer on a Sunless Afternoon

The high-pitched scream-like whistle makes me look up, and there among the berries, cedar waxwings scramble along with more melodious robins like mad shoppers at Filene's basement, pulling and swallowing fruit as fast as it can be snatched. They do not fight, however, unlike the nun who grabbed brightly patterned panties out of my hands all those years ago in Boston. These birds seem to understand that sharing is a good idea, especially when the temperature is 27 degrees and dropped. By nightfall, tree will be bare, and they will move on.

I would like to be there when they arrive. 

The most beautiful thing about the Bradford Pears in front of the Sewanee Post Office

is the flock of Cedar Waxwings gorging on the fruits.



What's a little bird poop when the rewards are so great?