Floof, Scratch, Twist, Repeat.
Molting one’s feathers must be a lot like breaking in a new pair of hiking boots. At first, things are stiff, maybe
Molting one’s feathers must be a lot like breaking in a new pair of hiking boots. At first, things are stiff, maybe
Flap-flap-flap-flap—glide. The huge dark birds sail along on the rising morning air currents. Flap-flap-flap, flap-flap-flap—they glide and cruise along toward yesterday’s feeding
The feather I’m holding in my hand once belonged to a Wild Turkey (Meleagris gallopavo). I found it on the short-cut grass
I don’t think about snakes very often. I don’t go looking for snakes on purpose. When I find one, it’s always a
The frog sunning himself on my deck table this spring morning is not the swashbuckling hero of the rollicking folk song
On a recent November evening I joined twenty other curious folks at the visitors center at the Fernald Preserve near the Great
I don’t normally take binoculars with me when I walk out to get the morning newspaper—but maybe I should. Summer is dwindling
To capture the beauty of this summer’s butterflies all you need to do is learn how to think like a butterfly—and keep