Twice on Saturday morning, our Middlebury neighborhood was visited by a very
large flock of waxwings. So numerous it was difficult to count, they swooped
up to munch on the last remaining crabapples and dived down to the pavement
to drink the salty, sandy mudpuddles, then disappeared over the rooftops to
ransack the next neighborhood. Each one I could get the binoculars on long
enough to examine was a Bohemian.
Other visitors in addition to the usual suspects included a calling Northern
Titmouse, a pair of House Finches gathering nesting material in the brush,
and (I'm guessing) a short-tailed shrew scampering out from under the deck
along a well-defined trail through the moss and grass.