Sunday, April 15, 2018, 630 am 52 degrees
I hear the usual good morning calls from one lone chicken living in the bushes along Bridge Street. A dozen pigeons circle the Fair Oaks Bridge. Some land and walk the deck.
Clouds scatter across the sky as if they were blue gray spires of spun sugar with golden tips at their end. The air is still and cool. The river moves quickly downstream. As the sun emerges on the horizon, it shines brilliantly through dense cloud cover.
The branch where I watch turtles sunbathe is completely underwater. A river otter surfaced from underneath the north riverbank, swam under Fair Oaks Bridge and disappeared.
I am surrounded by the morning melodies of birds singing from high trees heard and unseen. As all other wildlife leaves Fair Oaks Bridge and the nearby areas, birds continue to sing. I stand alone on the bridge, and listen to the music of my morning companions.