In case anyone besides my best friend Joe played the game regards the best work of the greatest rock and roll band ever, here is a clarification: I said "(It's) The Singer Not the Song" was one of the best rock lyrics poems.

The best is:

In the chilly hours and minutes of uncertainty
I want to be in the warm hold of your loving mind.
To feel you all around me and to take your hand, along the sand,
Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind.

When sundown pales the sky I want to hide a while, behind your smile
And everywhere I'd look your eyes I'd find
To love you now would be the sweetest thing, t'would make me sing
Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind

When rain has hung the leaves with tears, I want you here, to kill my fears
And help me to put all my blues behind
For standin' in your heart is where I want to be, and I long to be
Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind.

Catch the Wind, Donovan (Leitch)

Red tails look magnificent perched on a low wire , when you are driving slow enough to check them out. I've mentioned several times a buteo that appears to patrol the area including the Converse Cemetery, Mier, and, possibly that little ponded area up by Richland Chapel. This beautiful boy was along SR 18 just east of Converse, about a 1/4 mile from the cemetery.
The area as described sounds large, but a soaring red tail can patrol it in less time than you can drive it; his vision is that much better than yours.
I'm a little surprised. This hawk is almost a star, perching in totally vulnerable places, road signs, road sides, low wires on the highways, several spots on two state roads.
There is an overabundance of armed dumbasses about.
My belief is you eat what you kill, and I doubt a 30 -40 pound dog (coyote - the DNA is an up-and-down match) shows up as a roast on many tables tomorrow.

None of the coyotes I see on tailgates are killed on the killer's property, so, WTF? You're not eating the dog, he's not bothering your stuff. And you kill him?

That is just wrong.

Thus it surprises me none of these assholes have blown my neighborhood red tail to smithereens, two or so pounds reduced to feathers and ruptured bones.

And I think I saw a robin today, support and credence for the red-winged blackbird of a couple days ago.
I guess I'm not the robin fan I should be. Maybe because they are noted singers, protected songbirds, but they seem to sing maybe eighteen notes a year, in total self interest. I surely believe they could and should share such a lovely talent a bit more.
One should keep a shine on the gifts the Lord gives, and that's a dusky luster on the robin's songs.

Playing with a stick and my puppy in the pine woods this afternoon, I saw a broad-tipped arrow stuck in a branch, too high to reach. I have no idea why that arrow had been let fly that high. Kind of scary. Not an accident, it dug in pretty good. I'll get it tomorrow.

Okay, maybe. I was gonna mark it, but I walked out-and-back, and didn't see it.

What a drag it is getting old.