Brian and I sat on the patio a few dawns after the equinox. Wrapped in a big fuzzy blanket, our view included the nursery across the field where early-morning fog lay in light poofs. Toward the sunrise, fog filled the atmosphere. A Junco, practically at our feet, hopped and shopped for breakfast among tattered stalks of a large Goatsbeard (Aruncus dioicus). As if suddenly aware of our presence, the little bird flew up into a nearby Western redcedar (Thuja plicata) and began scolding us for sitting on its patio.

Meanwhile, down by the foggy lake, dozens of other birds gathered among branches of Western hemlock (Tsuga heterophylla), Sitka spruce (Picea sitchensis) and Black Cottonwood (Populus trichocarpa). Calling and chirping, with a lot of flapping and flitting, they got increasingly worked up about something—did they sense a lurking predator? Several Stellar Jays added their sharp cries to the musical chaos as they joined the crowd gathering in the trees. Brian had an explanation; the Robins were “flocking up”, preparing to head south for winter. He heard the sound every fall. I guess I have heard it too, though I had never LISTENED to their message: “Time to move on! Are we ready?”

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