It was a dry and rustling day

I let my ears do the walking. Rowdy Blue Jays lead me to a Cooper’s Hawk moving from branch to branch within the thick confines of a yew.


The tapping of Downy Woodpeckers and the clucking of Red-bellied Woodpeckers rang through the leaf-stirring wind.

A dry susurration, a crinkly crunch. (The annual up-to-the-calves-in-leaves self-portrait.)