Most of the birds in our garden are of humble origins: sparrows, finches, starlings, warblers and wrens. Some are undocumented immigrants: starlings, House Sparrow, collared-doves. Only one claims royalty: Ruby-crowned Kinglet. And there he was today, high in the dawn redwood while the lesser creatures scuttled about in the bushes or on the ground below. True groundlings those juncos and towhee. The kinglet, like the stolidly bourgeois robins, eschews the feeders. He feeds and lives on a higher plain than the others. And he never lowers himself to mere tweeting. When he does make music, it is lilting and swift…or he gives you that harsh tut-tut that serves to warn you that you are annoying The Kinglet. Be off, you peasant…and pheasants, too, for that matter.
I may not see him in the garden again for days, or weeks. Such royal visits are not a daily occurrence at our humble home.
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