By noon we were already two hours behind schedule, even though we didn't have one. And then, the hurried-er we went, the behind-er we got.

Dampness dominates. Even yesterday, during the brief bit of sunshine, all was damp. This is when the desert beckons.

Attendance is down at the bird-feeder. This might be because all the snow is gone and more natural forage is available. Or, possibly the avians (like me) like their seeds crisp rather than soggy. Or, possibly, it's because of a big, old, sharp-shinned hawk, possibly the one who has struck terror here in previous years. Yesterday I saw an ominous, slope-shouldered shape high in a tree several back-yards away. The binoculars revealed a sharp-shinned. Today, as Pax and I were walking along the creek we noticed a troop of noisy crows mobbing an ominous, slope-shouldered shape high in a tree. Yes, a predator prowls.

And, yesterday I killed one. Driving along a country road I saw what appeared to be a road-killed 'possum dead ahead. I steered to center over it without a touch, when I suddenly saw a raptor right on top of it. Before I could react the bird was forcibly removed from the carcass, and turned into one itself. I'm still feeling bad about that, but figure the little ones at the feeder outside the kitchen window don't really mind.

Last night we went for dinner and some old fashioned folk music at Cafe Carpe--with our flag-waving neighbors across the street.