Birds in Winter

Today dawns bright and beautiful. Unruffled sea, leafless branches etched sharp against a pale blue sky. Six geese, those great survivors of three Christmases preen themselves down by our neighbouring crofter's little pond. Wild ducks waddle around, consorting with the pair of bought in black and white Muscovies, the pair of bought in Indian Runners and all those feathered paddlers of lesser, probably mixed-species provenance. Chickens galore. All colours. I like the speckled ones best.
Eating breakfast a bit earlier we watched as wild birds searched the ground for scrap and seeds undiscovered by their larger, domesticated relatives. Starlings strutted, a mini-storm of housesparrows joined them, so did our pair of robins, our pair of blackbirds, a solitary thrush (redwing?), and a whole gaggle of greenfinches.
It's cold out there today. How can something weighing about the same as your little finger keep warm enough to live through all these winter nights?

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