MORNING

  

The California Scrub Jay in all it's glory. It's described as a song bird. Generous description since it seems to have exactly one call and after a couple of hours you are grabbing the headphones with your own personal ocean. I don't do operatic sopranos, Irish tenors or violins. My ears start begging for mercy and I start looking for the headphones. 

June sun well up. Whispy white clouds moving slowly towards the east. Haze on the horizon. Inversion or  smoke?  Can't be sure. Checked out the currrent fire map, nothing much in Oregon but there looks like three or four small ones in Idaho. With no wind to speak of the last couple of days the smoke sort of settles in and sticks around until another front moves in.

 A couple of squawking scrub jays accompanied about half of my early morning excercise. Jays don't chirp, twitter or cheep. They skreek. And it's a rusty skreek. A sort of fingernals on the blackboard skreek. 

With it getting light so early it's hopeless trying to get back to sleep, especially since the sun is coming through my window until at least six thirty this time of year. Might as well the first, longest, session out of the way.