We wait for it the minute it’s gone. Summer. Long, languid days followed by starry nights staring at the bonfire. Full moons. Crashing thunderstorms followed by placating rainbows.These are the songs of summer. We hum them in our minds all winter, and we rejoice when they arrive. Like the little Song Sparrow. Often overlooked amid the flurry of colourful warblers, the Loon’s lament, the drill and drum of the woodpeckers. All of these and more, serve to distract us from the one little bird who comes early to the party, sings his tiny heart out all summer long, and is one of the last to leave.This feathered fellow posed for me for about 10 minutes, showing me his handsome suit of beige and brown from all sides, cheerfully singing his song of summer and happy to do so.
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