The poetry of watching birds

It's a weird hobby, birds.

But they are our link to the air, performing effortlessly what we can only do mechanically, and clumsily so.

The annual bird count just finished up (story here). No surprise, the event drew at least one poet, Robert Kimsey.

"We don't know exactly what we're going to see. I'm hoping for at least 50 species. I'm dreaming of 70."

It's easy to get started with a simple bird feeder hung out of the way of cats, and under a branch, somewhere in your yard. Here in Kirkwood, the major bird flight path overhead rivals Hartsfield, so potential arrivals can come from all over the map, whether towhees or crossbills. Even the old feeder standby, the cardinal, is a shockingly beautiful creature.

(Pix: A fluffed-up female cardinal.)