no sooner had the pumpkin-colored moon raised its head above the sawtooth mountain (lol…mountains…) range when the woodcock started in with their prurient peenting. like last week, they were in open areas of young forest or…as the moon got brighter…on the road; the point being that when wildlife are trying to get busy, it doesn’t matter where they get busy.
most of the rivers and streams are open, but with the recent cold (10 degrees last night) much of the moisture-bearing snow has yet to meet its demise. the combination of sound and pressure and displaced air near the larger open rivers is an overwhelming experience that, like my frequent pondering of the stars and galaxies and planets, makes me recognize how completely trivial i am.
if there are owls singing, one would never know.
i surveyed till 1 this morning and slept fitfully, then was up at 7 to stumble into work. stumbling defines nearly 4 months of my owling life, but the stumbling has definitely increased now that i have to balance my daytime and nighttime shifts. i can tell you this though, if i don’t go out, i will miss something that will make me say to myself “if i hadn’t been here, i never would have _________ (insert tactile sense) that.
as often happens though, the winds are streaming off the lake and i will get a nocturnal reprieve for an evening. no telling though, what i might miss.