It was a big sky morning, with both high clouds and sun.
There was birdsong. Not chatter, not cooing, not cawing, but warbling, trilling birdsong, some coming from a male cardinal, who was singing to a female cardinal on the ground not ten feet away, and some belonging to the bird in this picture, who sat on top of this tree and if I only trusted my eyes, I could swear he was touching the sky.
There was birdsong. Not chatter, not cooing, not cawing, but warbling, trilling birdsong, some coming from a male cardinal, who was singing to a female cardinal on the ground not ten feet away, and some belonging to the bird in this picture, who sat on top of this tree and if I only trusted my eyes, I could swear he was touching the sky.
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