February passed in a twinkling, in part because of my dedication to watching as much Olympics coverage as possible. I love the Olympics. I can’t help it.
My couchmate, Glen, enjoyed them too:
As did our weirdest Ring-necked Pheasant, Peeping Tom:
Or rather, Peeping Tom liked watching us watching the Olympics, because he couldn’t see the tv from his angle.
Tom has always been the most peculiar of our yard’s nye of pheasants (I just learned last week that they are a nye, not a flock, so there you go), preferring to roost in the oak tree instead of in the scrubby patch with the rest of his family. They are good, if occasionally noisy, neighbours, but Tom is obviously angling for a taste of indoor life.
I did manage to get out for a few walks despite the icy conditions underfoot. Here’s Evie contemplating making a run for the river:
I was thrilled one afternoon to watch an exaltation (or an ascension) of Horned Larks hanging out on the dykes, but was less thrilled when I got home and realised the million photos I took of them were dismal. Here is one of the slightly less awful shots of one of them:
Embarrassing. But here’s a bit better one of a Black-capped Chickadee:
I’ve been…
baking the last of the shortbread cookie dough I made before Christmas
knitting a fourth hooded scarf since November, but I think that’s it for now
learning the names of groups of birds
listening to a yard full of Song Sparrows livin’ it up
making yogurt, still trying to perfect my technique
reading Cranford and The Impossible Fortune
watching Olympics, obviously
