Bright fellow

2005 September 20
by David J. Ringer

SPRINGFIELD, MO. — The toms had been roving through the yard all afternoon, and I stared out the picture window at their feathers gleaming bronze, the strange beards dangling from their breasts, and the weird erectile projections perched on their faces.

By now, the others had moved on; one turkey rested in the shade of the walnut trees, his head and eyelids drooping.

Above him in the green, something tiny moved. It was yellow, not a goldfinch…. Aha — snazzy black cap. A Wilson’s Warbler.

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  4. Gulping
  5. The little tippler, leaning

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