Silence. Not even the oft heard drone of tug boats and fishing boats.
A faint clicking sound; oddly rhythmic and intermittent. Two young bucks sparring.
Muffled yelps and squeaky sounds like a litter of brand new puppies. Bats settling into their house on the end of the garage after a busy night of mosquito catching.
The gurgling sound of sandhill cranes gliding effortlessly as they move to feeding fields.
Reflections of pink/orange clouds in the inky water encircling draping live oaks.
The clear, bright notes of cardinals as they are the first to rise in the thickets along the trail.
Rushing air across the powerful wings of a flock of Roseate Spoonbills as they pass overhead in ever changing formations.
Perched high with wings outstretched warming in the sun. Even a vulture looks majestic.
A sudden burst of wind overhead; no wait, it is the sound of wing beats of hundreds of blackbirds swirling from tree to tree along the slough.
Pelicans gliding with wingtips just above the water’s surface.
The “plop” of a frog as it takes refuge in the dark waters of the slough.
Gravely, grumpy cry of a great blue heron heading out to feed on the flats.
The sounds of this place awakening are magnificent. I need to make time to enjoy them more often.