The Reddish Egret is an interesting
feeder, vigorous to the point of humor,
it’s wings like an umbrella held out and up,
hunting tiny minnows in it’s own shadow,
wobbling, apparently erratic, on rubber knees,
a drunken sailor bird, in actuality
every movement perfectly controlled
by a deadly focus on its prey.
Sometime in the wee hours
the migration broke over
Southern Maine like a wave…
not in a trickle but a flood,
as though somewhere south
a dam had broken.
Yesterday the yard belonged
to the winter shift…
chickadees and titmice,
the occasional Downy Woodpecker,
and the ever-present squirrels…
This morning there are Juncos by the hundreds,
Song Sparrows by the tens, a gaggle
of Grackles, a Cardinal or two,
and even my one-a-year Fox Sparrow
shuffling last year’s maple leaves
where they pile under the Pines,
resting a moment with us
on its way north to breed.
I will admit to having my moments of doubt
in the last month or so, but it is looking
like we will all live to see
another spring in Maine.