I have just been buzzed by a pileated woodpecker.
When I say buzzed, what I mean, specifically, is that I felt the push of his enormous wings. Lingering on the flash of memory burned into the back of my brain, I can count the barbs on his feathers.
In more concrete terms, that sixteen-inch beast just flew directly between my face and my laptop screen.
Given the 2’+ wingspan of this behemoth, I guess I should just be grateful to still be in the possession of my head. It’s a good thing they swoop more than they flap!
It is indeed spring. It truly has come. There is but a two-foot patch of snow remaining on the yard, and even the glaciers on the north slopes of the property are receding. I’ve been barefoot more often than shod these past few days, and I do believe that I’ve officially fallen in love with the sun.
Even the most stubborn of trees are succumbing, allowing their buds to swell. A distinctly red tinge has taken on the canopy, and I can’t wait for the bombs to burst.
If you need me, I’ll be awaiting the next bomber,