By the path

Before this weekend I had not seen a hooded warbler for maybe three years, so there was no way I was going to spook this well-fed wonder. I planted my feet next to a tree and stood still. The warbler worked the area, back and forth, up and down, ignoring me, then studying me, a precious "visit".

Not everything by the path is happy. This northern parula was dead. No obvious signs of injury to its body. Yes, I picked it up and looked. Maybe it had hit a pane of glass elsewhere and finally died in the Rambles. Maybe it died of exhaustion. There were five birders who saw it. The decision was made to bury it. One of the gentlemen just happened to have a scoop. A grave was dug. Another gentleman sang Taps and the parula was laid to rest. Very sad. Totally dignified.

One can't end a posting on a totally depressing item. I have no idea what the following was all about.

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