|Last Light on Bergen Peak|
Bergen Peak’s high summit has been streaked with eternal snow all year long and the mountain’s east face is displayed like a silver facade. Ribbons of gray clouds fill the sullen sky, creating a forbidding flyway.
During the transition between seasons, a mighty wind is funneled down through the foothills’ many drainages. It’s as if the powerful breeze banishes the current, lingering season and brings forth the stubborn, new one.
After such a cold and stormy winter, the still frozen lakes and ponds have delayed the arrival of our feathered migrants. Despite harsh conditions, the first birds I’ve seen were a flock of famished American robins.
The long flight apparently infused the red-breasted marauders with a voracious appetite. The birds were observed on the rocky slopes plucking blue berries from the fringes of a fresh juniper bush.
The robins’ signature calls betrayed their frantic activity that added some color and interest to an otherwise dull and lifeless landscape. I can tell it won’t be long now before the rest of the clan arrives and raises a raucous over nest construction and territory defense.
|A feathered migrant|
|Transition between seasons|
|Wind is funneled through a drainage|
|A cold and stormy winter|
|A silver facade|
|A forbidding flyway|
|Streaked with white snow|
|Robins were first to arrive|
|A voracious appetite|
|On the fringes of a juniper bush|
|They added color to the landscape|