Next to the driveway at our old place was a huge old white pine with spreading branches, that we used to call the "treehouse". The kids played in and under it, and it was a magical place. Across the drive was where I had my compost pile.
One winter late afternoon, several years ago, I walked up the driveway, carrying the compost bucket. It had snowed lightly, and there was a hush over everything (except for the rush hour traffic in the distance). As I neared the treehouse, I heard a ringing sound - lots of little ringing sounds. Intrigued, I slowed my steps and focused my eyes. It wasn't till I was abreast of the tree that I saw what was ringing - it was a flock of the tiniest, cutest birds I'd ever seen, flitting from branch to branch. I watched, entranced, till I had to get back into the house (I probably had something cooking on the stove!). Out came the bird book, and I discovered that we'd been visited by a flock of ruby crowned kinglets. It's a memory I treasure, since I've never seen any since.
One winter late afternoon, several years ago, I walked up the driveway, carrying the compost bucket. It had snowed lightly, and there was a hush over everything (except for the rush hour traffic in the distance). As I neared the treehouse, I heard a ringing sound - lots of little ringing sounds. Intrigued, I slowed my steps and focused my eyes. It wasn't till I was abreast of the tree that I saw what was ringing - it was a flock of the tiniest, cutest birds I'd ever seen, flitting from branch to branch. I watched, entranced, till I had to get back into the house (I probably had something cooking on the stove!). Out came the bird book, and I discovered that we'd been visited by a flock of ruby crowned kinglets. It's a memory I treasure, since I've never seen any since.
This shows just how tiny they are.
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