Drought has dried the dying forbes and grasses, but in among them I saw most of the best birds of Autumn. The usually furtive Connecticut Warbler actually walked across the slope in full view, and Meadowlarks flushed from the edges of the stand, but there's nothing like watching the small birds flit through fragmented views in a density of in-betweens, following a floating eye until the surrounding body makes a brief, dramatic appearance. I pieced together various Sparrows: the shy Lincoln's, along with its cousins Song and Swamp. Field, Chipping, and the White Crowned, too. I found a Marsh Wren here, when I couldn't find one in the marsh. Indigo Buntings came in numbers, for a couple of weeks. And there were other Warblers, including the ever popular Yellow-breasted Chat, and, just last week, the Orange-crowned Warbler, a late migrant, lingering as the season wanes. There was even one bird that turned out to be a field mouse, but like I say, you've got to look closely.







The dark heads of the Sunflowers remain, after the petals have fallen, and the Goldfinches have extracted the seeds.




The beauty of dry grass is rather subtle, but we do have a bit of color...