I’ve been thinking a lot about birds lately, about the mystery of their migrations; their unerring return each spring. Our Cooper’s hawk is back from the dry barrancas of Zapotecas, its familiar kek-kek-kek vying with argumentative crows and cooing mourning doves at dawn. Improvisatory arboreal architects are at work big time. Humingbird hangs its timid sac of…
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