Betgeson column: Life in the swamp
The swamp out my front window is waking up.
Two nights ago, thousands of frogs started spring choral practice. A week earlier, the red-winged blackbirds returned with their metallic trill, swaying on the tips of the cattails.
A pair of great white egrets spent a morning on the pond before I opened my pickup door and the ding-ding-ding noise scared the two Dr. Suess-like birds into a clumsy take-off.
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