The birds were here first.
These are a few who let me stay a while.
From his bill to hers, one fruit is passed:
the smallest gift, the promise meant to last.
Malabar Pied-Hornbill · Dandeli, Karnataka
The first verse ever sung, the legends say,
was grief for a crane like these, struck down one day.
Sarus Crane · Bharatpur, Rajasthan
He crosses our road as if it were his own;
it was his slope long before the road was known.
Himalayan Monal · The Garhwal Himalayas
It cannot carve a nest; it needs an old tree’s hole —
so a hornbill’s future is a forest kept whole.
Malabar Gray Hornbill · Thattekad, Kerala
The only bird with the slit pupil of a cat’s eye;
it ploughs the river with its lower bill, flying by.
Indian Skimmer · Chambal, Rajasthan
Every feather of his, a pavonine hymn —
sung by the sun, for her, through him.
Himalayan Monal · The Garhwal Himalayas
for the photographs a field day leaves behind
PlumageSort
Point it at a field day's photographs and it files them by species — 3,751 of them — entirely on your own Mac. No upload, no account, no signal needed. When it isn't sure, it says so, and leaves the bird to you.
plumagesort.coma sky of songs, where the wandering heart belongs
Synesthete
Songs become stars, and every line two songs share becomes a thread between them — a small, slow presentation of LyricEcho, kept for one person and opened with a word.
enter the sky