My name is Vera. I’m a varied thrush. You may think I look a lot like Roberta the robin. She’s my cousin.
Here’s Roberta the robin this spring, looking a bit ruffled up against the wind.
Roberta came down from the hills with her friends and family last week and so did all my varied thrush friends. We’d been in the conifers in the hills, picking at berries and bugs, but then the snow came and covered all our food.
So we huddled in the woods until the worst of the weather blew over and then found out where Roberta had gone. Well, we all congregated at Anneli’s house and at some of her neighbours’ too. The bare patches of dirt had bugs and worms we could pick at, and the houses along this road had a lot of mountain ash trees growing, so we ate some of those red berries they grow.
Have you ever bitten off more than you can chew? I’m sure Lincoln will figure out that he has to chew it a bit at a time, but that filbert looks big enough to choke a horse.
Trouble is, there are three squirrels hanging around here now and the competition is getting fierce. The feeding frenzy is beginning as the temperature dropped and it feels like snow tonight.
“Eh? Orson? What’s that you said?” That Oregon junco knows everything that’s going on around here.
It's a chilly wind today,
My fur coat is on to stay,
I'm so happy to be warm,
With the temps below the norm.
“If you’d pay attention, Lincoln, you’d know there’s been a big change in the weather.” Him and his big fur coat. He probably hasn’t even noticed.But just look at Emma. She’s still trying to figure it out too.
Look now, Lincoln! See the ground,
See the flakes fall all around?
Food will be more precious though,
Covered as it is with snow.
“Sheesh! This is just like in the movies where Bambi says, ‘Mother, what’s all that white stuff?’ and she says, with her soft, stunned voice, like some naive housewife out of a 50s sitcom, ‘Why … it’s snow!'”
Emma snarfs in deep, long sniffs,
White stuff gives off special whiffs,
Did a raccoon pass by here?
Did a rabbit scratch his ear?
Licking, tasting flakes of snow.
Tries to bite it, where'd it go?
Funny flakes of wetness fall,
On her head and over all.
Emma gives her coat a shake,
Leaving just one lonely flake,
Sitting on her pointy nose,
Then into the house she goes.