The bird stands by the pond, and I don’t know what kind of a bird it is. The pond is at the end of an irrigation ditch, and so far, and for the past couple of years, that little body of water has been really popular with the feathered population.
I see them sitting out there in the water, and I see them hanging around the ditches and fields: fleet roadrunners, burrowing owls, duck, geese, egrets, blue herons, and best of all, magnificent soaring raptors. I don’t know if they are hawks or falcons.
The bird by the pond last week was about 18 inches tall. It had a short body and long neck. It was brown. I haven’t seen a bird like that before.
Out there by the pond, I see them hanging around. Webbed-footed birds floating on the water. I see quail scurrying along the ditches, running through the fields, faking injury to sacrifice themselves for their fleeing young.
Several months ago, four ugly buzzards took a couple of weeks to eat the carcass of what appeared to be a dead porcupine. I don’t know if it was a porcupine. The smell kept me at a distance. Not to mention I didn’t want to disturb the vultures that so diligently feasted on the shrinking rodent.
But still, there’s beauty out there at the pond and along the artery that feeds it.
The pond always has water. Occasionally, the pond gets thirsty, but then a great burst of rain fills it again.
The pond holds enough water that migratory birds of all feathers make it a point to drop by and float awhile. At least until they see me.
Out there by the open fields where farmers grow their crops, there is beauty, even in the carcass of a porcupine and the ugly birds that feed upon it.
-- David Madrid --
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The bird by the pond last week was about 18 inches tall. It had a short body and long neck. It was brown. I haven’t seen a bird like that before.