The roaring sound of cicada tymbals has noticeably quieted. The next generation of periodical cicadas is young and silent. After hatching from eggs laid in trees, they will fall to the ground and tunnel into the earth, where they will live in darkness for years. These days it is the lightning bugs who are putting on a show.
A merlin preened on a branch of a skeletal tree, contorting its body into all sorts of interesting positions as it tidied and fluffed its feathers with its beak and talons. Far away, in the distant overcast sky, the chatter of two crows sounded. Two black spots flew into view. And they saw the merlin.
While some migratory birds are leaving, others are just arriving. Birds from the Arctic Circle make their grand entrance. Arctic migratory birds can have very specific winter locales, including the east and west coastlines or hotspots occurring within select states. Others are common residents throughout much of the lower forty-eight and even more common throughout the Midwest.
The loud squawking of blue jays leads my gaze upward. The talkative birds coast in from the distance and land on the tallest tree branches where they continue their conversation. Cardinals are unmistakable with their red plumage popping against the muted winter backdrop. Nuthatches scratch the wood of trees as they crawl around on tree trunks. A downy woodpecker joins them.
A darkness prevails in the understory of the woods, but the green leaves at the very tops of the oak trees remain illuminated by a retreating sun. The piercing call of a northern flicker cuts through the woods while robins softly purp. Hurried twitters of more birds start and stop and fade into a decrescendo with distance as the singers fly away to their roosts for the evening.
