Cardinal

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Here we are, on the west side of the estate. There are at least two bird feeding zones out here. It's late morning, and the three of us are quietly bird watching. My camera is still set up on a tripod, with the zoom lens on.

Pastor Elsie, who I dated a couple of years ago, had a special affection for cardinals. For her, they were icons of the divine. They also reminded her of her mother.

I'm pretty poor with bird names, and even worse in recognizing bird songs. I initially mistook the cardinal's song for Poor Will's, but Brother Dave matter-of-factly pointed out the difference.

It seemed to me that the canyon wren had a little descending laugh that Mozart would envy, which was punctuated with a chirp or hiccup.

Dave and Linda sat. Sister and Fearless were on the south-east, on a sort of board walk Dave built from the house to their car port. I leaned against the railing when I wasn't swinging the camera to and fro, and taking bird shots.

The three of us spent much of our time bird-watching. Either the natural aviary around the estate, or the pergrine falcons now starring in their own web-cam series.

The cardinal blessed it all.