I always have company when mowing the yard. Barn swallows swoop and swirl to keep the bugs off of me. No need for spray; the birds do a better job, and they’re fun to watch. Today, a kildeer is doing the “come follow me” act just ahead of the mower. I can’t see any sign of a nest and it’s pretty late for a hatch. Maybe she just wants me out of her territory.
There are pelicans and geese down on the lake. No swans this year, and we miss them. The lake is smooth as glass for once, and the bright white against the clear blue is like a magazine picture. The lake isn’t often that blue; a windy day stirs up alkali from the bottom and the waves make it look like mud.
I sat on the deck last night and listened to the birds get ready for bed. Some chatter, then quiet. A few more twitters, silence, and then a lot more chatter. Remember when you were a kid and spending the night with friends? Parents told you to settle down numerous times, and go to sleep. Quiet reigned briefly, but then someone poked, giggled, or tickled, and the fun started up again. A yelp, another parental warning, more quiet, more whispers, until finally you asked, “Are you asleep?” When no reply came, you rolled over and gave in. Apparently, birds follow a similar bedtime ritual.
The sun wasn’t quite ready to give in, but the moon rode high as the last golden rays touched hilltops. Dragonflies had taken over the mosquito patrol and they are every bit as effective as barn swallows. The whole meadow seemed to be celebrating coolness after a hot, windy day.
Gradually, silence settled in, the hills became just shadows, and the hum of mosquitos began in earnest. Even the dogs began asking to go inside. When dragonflies go to bed, the skeeters know it’s safe to come out, and even I know who’s going to win this round.
Nobody told me to hush up and go to sleep though, so I didn’t. Our bedroom window looks out on the meadow, and I stayed awake to watch for fireflies.
Meet me here next week and meanwhile, do your best. Somebody might like it.