Hey tweets, yesterday was one of those perfect days that make me think I'm living in paradise. The golden light of the sun bathed every leaf and blade of grass so intensely that they seemed to catch fire and glow greenly like living emeralds. I was sitting near the alder grove kittycorner from the kiosk, soaking it in and listening to an AMERICAN ROBIN tenor sing a cantata unlike any I have ever heard before. He would start low with three liquid notes, then add a four-note trill like a flute playing baroque chamber music. Every now and then, he would throw in a variation - the Bach of birds. He's been singing like this every day now for a week; I urge you to get your tickets and hear the concert before the maestro moves on.

As I was enjoying the music, a white flash caught my eye. It turned out to be a female YELLOW-RUMPED WARBLER. She seemed to be carrying food back to a dense area of leaves among the treetops. Maybe she's nesting??? Some years ago, a cryptic warbler appeared in the bulrushes of Shoveler's Pond. A photographer took a photo and asked me to identify the bird. He said that he had sent the picture to a group of British birders who offer identification services to all and sundry. They were stumped. So was I. I forwarded the photo to Dennis Paulson, who ID'ed the bird as a very young Yellow-rumped Warbler. As I recall, he said that fledgling Yellow-rumps acquire a cryptic plumage right before they leave the nest and then molt into the more familiar dull plumage that we see down here in winter. He said the reason we couldn't identify the bird was that we never see Yellow-rumps this young. Well, maybe now we'll get another chance! Stay tuned.

Also on view yesterday: a pair of BAND-TAILED PIGEONS flying overhead; numerous CASPIAN TERNS fishing the lake; and a WESTERN WOOD-PEWEE adding a little wheeze to the robin's concert, like an audience member who should have stayed home with his cold. The LAZULI BUNTING that first showed up a few weeks ago is still around, still not singing. I saw him day before yesterday as he landed among the tall grass near Jesse Green's bench, just a few feet away from me. He stayed there a moment, then flew a little way to the east, flashing his cerulean blue back and cloud-white front. What a guy.

Here is a poem for you today:

I dream.
I dream of harmony between me and mine.
The song sublime.
And all of humanity is mine.
And all of nature too.

- Connie, Seattle


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