Besides saving gas and giving me exercise, the walk to and from the corrals is an adventure. You never know what you will see, a golden sunset, an interesting bug, or wildlife. Yesterday, I discovered baby birds on my walk back up the long hill.
They lay in the middle of this over-grown road about fifteen feet apart. To this ignorant bird watcher, they appeared to be Meadow Larks. Yet, I'm not sure because their was a Horned Lark around but it didn't seemed at all interested in my photographing these tiny creatures. That seemed unusual since most momma birds fiend injury to lure us away and then switch to another tactic, like screaming at us or dive bombing us. The Horned Lark just stood there and gazed at me in an uninterested manner.
After I had snapped some pictures, I reluctantly left them and walked on home praying that mom returned for them and moved them to a safer location. This road seldom has traffic but there is the occasional four-wheeler driven by a kid who travels at high speeds.
As I neared the back gate, a familiar noise caught my attention. It's like someone quickly running a finger along the edge of a comb, only the pitch is deeper. Smiling, I searched the blue sky for the Nighthawks I knew would be dancing across the breeze. It is the end of June and every year they perform a mating ritual at this same time. The two Nighthawks take turns soaring high into the sky, then fold their wings and plunge downward, diving toward the ground. Nearing the earth, they extend their wings and the wind screeches through their feathers causing the distinct sound. When resting, they sit upon the frame of our greenhouse, perched the same way the top metal bar runs, a distinct pose for a bird.
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