The 7th of July

Kids and I take our morning walk. It's about 3 miles, a leisurely hour and a half.
This morning we spot an oriole in a far tree.

I experiment taking voice notes (wav file).   In my old age memory is failing... maybe reminders will help.

I

If you listen to the voice notes, this is "Gallic, Hephestus, turkeys" -- I wanted to remind myself of:

• Jonathan, out of the blue, asks if anyone still speaks Welsh; we get off on the phenomena of Europeans trying to revive dead languages as a politically correct gesture.
• someone says "Lame-footed" which suggests the god of the forge, which reminds us that Jonathan once thought Mercury was "flat of foot"
• finally, we see a couple of male turkeys across the road

Late afternoon, after it cools off, the kids and I head for the woods to chop wood.

Now sweaty and dirty, Mary and I head for BWS-1 to relax

There must have been a million bushtits in the oaks.  The trees shivered and hummed.  It was quite magical.

To top it off, across the field on the far side of the road, we saw something bouncing in the tall grass.  It would spring into sight and then disappear, like it was on a trampoline.

It was a COYOTE, hunting.