This morning, high above in a leafless walnut tree, a red tailed hawk contemplated the meaning of Thanksgiving. The sky was a deep gray, covered in a low, thick blanket of sullen wintery clouds. No ducks. The swan has left. The heron is indisposed. Even the sparrows are gone off, perhaps to that feeder in my back yard which delights and torments my house-bound cats. So the hawk looked on. His feathers all fluffed up keeping it warm. It flew off as I was absorbed with my final sketch. Do wild animals say "Thank you?"
It started to sprinkle rain which will turn to snow tonight. I walked home and put a few more yard things away for the coming season and took out a few snow shovels to keep nearby. I also filled the bird feeders. I love their cheeping and chattering. Cheep!