Hey tweets, yesterday at the Fill was an example of two seasons at the
same time. For Fall, we got two Least Sandpipers, down from the tundra
after their breeding season ended. So fall migration has definitely
started. About time, too. I'm already tired of the heat!

On the other hand, summer is not about to slink its way south where it
belongs, at least not quite yet. Yesterday, the Willow Flycatcher who
has set up his territory on the Main Pond was singing his little head
off while perched on the dead willow snag at the north end. He clearly
thought he was a songbird, and I suppose technically, he is correct.
He certainly went through all the proper motions of a songbird. He
found a high perch. He threw his head back. He swelled himself up like
a little bagpipe. He opened his beak. And out poured a crankcase-
sounding "FITZZZZ-bew" of magnificent proportions. A song, I guess,
but one that was more rap than rhapsodic. When he had expelled his
best effort, he stopped and looked around, as if wondering where the
adoring crowds were.

Some years ago, my husband and oldest son took a road trip from
Arizona to Seattle, driving an old beater that my father had given to
my son. For some demented reason, they decided their route should take
them through Death Valley. The air conditioner gave out while they
were still in Arizona. The motor died every hundred miles or so and
John had to tinker with it until he nursed it back to feeble life
again. But, he said, the most challenging part of the trip was the
fact that Alex played German rap the whole time - loudly.

"I've never been the same since," said John.

I think of that story every time I hear the Willow Flycatcher rapping
out his music on the old wooden snag. You've got to go and see the
little performer before the season ends. It's a riot. - Connie, Seattle

constancesidles at gmail.com