Hey tweets, A red-letter day at the Montlake Fill last evening. I saw two
soras (sori? I've never had to spell the plural before, never having seen
more than one at a time, and that not very often). One sora was peaking out
in typical sora fashion from the cattails along the eastern edge of what I
call cinnamon teal pond (the round pond at the far south of the Fill, right
in front of the dead beaver trees). The other was strolling as bold as you
please between the two clumps of loosestrife located at the southwest end
of the main pond (said loosestrife soon to be gone, I hope - you know you
couldn't escape one of my posts without hearing about loosestrife). I got a
rare chance to study a sora in full view. I found that it walked much like
a coot, with its toes folding up at every step and then splaying out
deliberately, like a ballet dancer touching her toes to the floor. The sora
did not walk at an even pace, but stopped and started frequently. When it
thought it needed to hide, it hustled along in a comical fashion - its toes
don't seem to be designed for rapid marching. Still, it managed to move
quickly. It also seemed to be able to make itself thick or thin as desired.
At times, it almost looked two-dimensional. Then, when I glanced away for a
nanosecond, it was gone. I hung around for 20 minutes, waiting for it to
reappear, but it never did. The sora might as well have its own personal
black hole, it popped out of my space so fast. That's probably where the
black rails go, too. - Connie, Seattle

csidles at mail.isomedia.com