Atop the Weeping Willow
This handsome devil spent a few minutes singing from the weeping willow in the backyard this morning. Julie got several shots, but I (the clumsy digiscoper) managed only this one shot.
I remember the exact spot where, about this time of year, in 1974, I saw my first male orchard oriole. It was just past the little white church on Newell's Run, in a sycamore sapling poking up from the brush along the embayment.
The orchard male's combination of deep, dark cinnamon-rust and black is so understated for an oriole, but completely captivating to me.