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epitome of incomprehensibility
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A sparrow-sized songbird pecked at seeds, its body hazel-brown to greenish-yellow. Black dash like a sash on the wings, white stripe between. Cute li'l fellow, but how do we humans categorize you?
According to the laminated bird chart hanging next to the kettle, it looked like a ruby-crowned kinglet, but without the ruby crown (a red patch on the top of its head). So I got out the big living-room book Birds of Canada, edited by one well_named David Bird. (He used to write for the Montreal Gazette.) Turns out that, yes, the ruby-crowned kinglets aren't always redheads. Their red crowns can be small and hard to spot; besides, the females don't have them. Non-crowned queenlets? That's income inequality!
Anyway. They're still adorable. I feel like going into cutesy-talk and calling them birbs. But that might offend their royalty.
Today I saw five of these birds. One was shimmying down the diagonal string holding the bird feeder in place, waiting for her turn.
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