The grass is getting long. Walking the perimeter is like trudging through snow (pausing every so often to brush off the tick flakes). I'm still thoroughly enraptured. And finally, the bobolinks make their appearance. Not singing yet. Instead, a different sort of deranged vocalist is dominating the scene--a Warbling Vireo in what seems like every other tree. [Here's a taste: a Warbling Vireo/Song Sparrow duet]
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