The backyard fills with migrating robins this morning. Several rim the bird bath, drink, others wait on the ground, lift to the rim or to the trees ringing the yard. It makes for a constant flitting to and fro. I wish I’d thought to have seed on hand for this passage, but I don’t, only a container of sesame seeds in the pantry which won’t be much help at all.
Suddenly, the fountain crowds with several taking a bath at the same time.
I so missed birds and butterflies in the back garden this summer.
“Have you seen any butterflies?” I asked often in early summer. No one had, the usual yard visitors a casualty of climate change, I surmised, even though all of us commenting on the lack had planted butterfly and nectar plants in our gardens.
I did see monarch caterpillars munching away on one plant and creating a trail of filmy spun nets. So maybe a nursery at least.
Will humans in 50 or 60 years look back on this time as “the good old days?”
Thankfully, the robins aren’t a casualty. At least for now. I expect I’ll see them again next spring, heading north. There’s hope in that.