For time ever, a dooryard parula singing from the maples and ash around the garden. They usually nest, southwest of the house, along the western rim of Coyote Hollow marsh; their nests woven in the old man's beard lichen that hangs off the balsam fir. I haven't heard the black-billed cuckoos in the past two days, but the saw-whet and bittern are calling every night, off and on all night.
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