Hey Tweets, I found a BLACK PHOEBE at the Fill today. Jim Fiero and I were standing on the southeast side of Main Pond when the bird flew in and began flycatching among the willow trees. Often it would fly down to the water to pluck an insect (or perhaps a crustacean) off the surface. As far as my records show, this is the *first* Black Phoebe ever seen at Montlake Fill. Whoo hoo.

Also on view at Main Pond: a singing male Yellow Warbler, and a gorgeous adult GREEN HERON. The heron has been eluding me for weeks but relented this morning and flew to within a few feet of me to perch briefly before performing its disappearing act.

If you want to chase the phoebe, please be aware that Husky Stadium is hosting a gigantic convention of Jehovah's Witnesses today. All parking lots are closed to other visitors, including the parking lots by the CUH building. There is parking on the street, but it is limited.

In other news, the Bushtits are flocking already; Violet-green Swallows have mostly molted into their dull-brown plumage that will wear down to brilliant green soon; the young Cliff Swallows are learning how to drink on the fly (one clueless youngster misjudged the distance completely and ended up floating in the drink like a duck before taking off again); a lone CANVASBACK has been floating around the Lagoon for the past several days; the first GREEN-WINGED TEAL of the fall has already returned; and a few LEAST SANDPIPERS have been showing up on and off since Wednesday. We've had at least one pair of AMERICAN WIGEONS and a female RING-NECKED DUCK over-summer this year - I don't recall ever seeing a Ring-necked do this before. The WOOD DUCKS have become plentiful, though they tend to appear in the early mornings only. Several CASPIAN TERNS pay visits throughout the day and argue over who gets to keep the fish anyone catches - even the one with the fish manages to say a few things, though I can't figure out how it manages this feat with its mouth full.

Here is a poem for you today:

Born of swamp and shade,
the Green Heron lives a secret life,
stalking solitude.
Seldom seen misanthrope,
you are beloved by us all.

- Connie, Seattle

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