I often wonder where the hummingbirds go when they are not buzzing in our yard. Where do they rest and make their nests? And where do the finches and wrens and phoebes and woodpeckers, and crows and ravens go, at night, when we no longer see them? I know the favorite roosts of the doves, we see their evidence in the early mornings, on the sidewalks under the magnolias; and sometimes our passing wakes them before they are ready, their fluttering and quick flight usually punctuated by a down feather or two floating down to us as exclamation points in the otherwise quietude. And I know where the hawks build their nests, in the highest trees. But I worry for the other birds. I send them thoughts of safe harbors and warmth through the nights. And am rewarded each morning as they appear here and there, to greet the day.
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