Poorwill Dawn, in air that beyond just quality of the sound it carries through it, is the first with an autumnal tang–ineffable, a mix of dryness, dust, cooling desert.
Kingbirds do flips and somersaults in the delight of an afternoon that only reaches the mid 80s. Immature Vermillion Flycatchers are still around aplenty on the fencepost tops, but red adults haven’t been seen for a while … I suspect they depart earlier, or many reach the natural end of their lives about now.
At least one Snipe is getting accustomed to us so much that it seems to have lost its wildness, in among the Ground Doves who come to drink at The Stockpond.
Grasshopper numbers have been declining slowly and evenly, the biggest have all but disappeared though here and there one will be found perched at a mesquite sapling’s tip, unmoving, stupefied by I don’t know what … cooler nights? the day’s taking longer to warm them? old age? (should we start looking at time in “grasshopper years”, the way we do, “dog years”?)