Pink fingers of dawn are edging their way up behind the mountain ridge pushing the dark gray clouds ever higher, illuminating the homes along the pinnacle. Occasional lights go on and you know neighbors are awakening to the day and soon a bird song is sending out its own greetings and praise.
It's a warm and sunny day in the mountains. The oak tree is filled with a variety of birds, big blues, small brown wrens, salmon and coral finches, pine grosbeak, northern wheatear, a few towhee and titmouse, sparrows and lots of Oregon juncos.
The cats are enjoying watching the activity in between naps. The snow has melted off the front flowerbed and the golden fuschias are again in bloom, one little sparkle, but there are more bulbs thrusting up their heads.
An old feral cat carries on a conversation with the birds. A young sparrow as sitting in my flower bed and didn't move when I walked around. It just tossed around empty shells as if it could find something to eat in them. It seems to have adopted me, and that's just fine with me. What better way to spend the day than with a little bird friend.
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