Murrmurrs

My pal Julie Zickefoose is a world-class noticer. One of the cool things you can do if you're a world-class noticer like Julie is you ca...

Yeah, I don't remember. I've complained before about my inability to recognize birds.  I'll no sooner get one solidly deposi...

We're Americans. We came, we conquered, we pushed into the endless West by the sweat of our brow and the fire of our rifles, and even th...

Dave the nuthatch finally quit coming back to the nest box, finally quit beeping from the branches, finally moved on. He'd help raise at...

I don't know what's in our chickadee box. Whatever's in there has been packed with bugs and caterpillars, and, lately, as par...

Julie, paying attention. Photo by Sharon Hull. Most people want friends who are loyal, honest, and kind. I do too. I also put a high pre...

We interrupt your regularly scheduled Murrmurrses for a bonus post about a friend in the blogosphere. Ah, Internet: everything is free now. ...

When winter comes, I turn my back on the flowers I've loved all season. See you next spring, if you make it,  I say, and then they'r...

After reading Julie Zickefoose's excellent post describing how the bolas spider whacks the wily and delectable moth with a glob of silk...

It's probably spring by now. Birds are picking fights with each other, and some of them are--why, I believe they are wrestling. Dave bui...

Somewhere in this house there's proof that I have a biology degree, and although it is now entirely vestigial, I maintain it qualifies m...

So there I was on the way to the New River Birding and Nature Festival in Fayetteville, West Virginia, when it hit me: I'm Paris Hilto...