Yesterday I went on a walk with some friends led by another friend who is an expert birder to observe the spring migrators and the newly arrived birds who will nest here this spring. As we ambled up a trail along the Rio Grande, we stopped to hear the songs of yellow warblers, spotted tohees and ash-throated flycatchers. We saw a pair of great blue herons, dozens of mallards and wood ducks and even a Canada goose couple with their goslings. But the bird that most captivated

This little one was just born a few moments ago. His hair is still wet from the primordial ocean. He is utterly helpless, utterly dependent upon others to protect him, feed him, keep him warm and dry. His whole life is one big unknown possibility. He doesn't even have a name yet. This little guy is lucky. He was born into a family that is prepared to do whatever it takes to care for him. Even though they haven't held him yet they already love him entirely. In a day or

From my desk I look over the Embudo River, now in near flood with snowmelt from the Sangre de Christo Mountains to my east. The Embudo flows into the Rio Grande, a major thoroughfare for bird migrations. We are heading into the peak of the northward flight of millions of migratory birds, an extraordinary feature of living on earth, a small scale spectacle easy to miss if you aren't paying attention. The migration includes winter residents departing, beginning with the sand

Six Steps to Becoming a Mindful Politico or, How to Use Mindfulness to Stay Sane During the Election Try this mantra: Breathe in, say “Donald”, breathe out, say, “Trump.” Seriously? No, I’m not really suggesting you meditate on the Donald. Still, we do need some techniques to help us stay sane during this campaign season. This year even those who try to avoid politics all together will find it impossible. For people who follow politics closely the sheer negativity of some

As a human I have a natural aversion to rodents. I don’t love the groundhogs who chewed up my prized Mr. Lincoln rose bush. Yesterday I found Mr. Lincoln lying flat, severed at the root. No deep red intensely fragrant roses for me this summer, most probably because the batteries failed in the noisemaker contraption that keeps them away. I also don’t love the pack rats that always find a way to nest in my garden shed. Last winter they used an expensive shade cloth I had fo