While the robins have been strutting around acting like all the green grass is their kingdom, belonging solely to them, quietly, other birds have arrived to stake their claim.
I didn’t notice until I saw the bubble-gum-pink azalea quivering, even though there was no breeze, and out popped a catbird – its sleek dark gray body ended in an elegant black tail; on its head a tiny black cap.
I love catbirds, especially their insistent harsh call when they are excited. They seem to think that the compost pile is their private dining hall, and if it isn’t turned quickly enough, they sit on the fence and holler at you as incentive to pick up your pace.
The sparrows are rooting through the garden beds, taking beaks full of mulch, shaking them, as they forage for food.
The grackles splash in the fountains that are once again flowing, after a very cold winter.
It’s spring, and the birds are thrilled.