A flock of titmice came to the bird feeder and with them was a red-breasted nuthatch. The pretty little nuthatch wasn't interested in the seeds, so it preened itself while the others squabbled over feeder dowels and chattered with the chickadees.
A phoebe perched upon a naked maple branch, flicking its tail. I thought she'd have left, trailing behind the swallows. But the insects are still flying, and maybe she's had a premonition that winter is not coming.