On Tuesday, quite a few blackbirds gathered at the canal, along with swallows swooping over the water to catch insects. In the bulrushes, I noticed one curious spot — maybe a nest, or perhaps just a favorite lookout for the blackbirds.

Along a mile of Monte Vista’s bulrushes, blackbirds packed so tightly the count could have been a million. Both red-wings and yellow-heads staged together for migration, a rare sight few visitors ever see. That morning seemed to mark the beginning of their departure.

A skunk had stopped by a few times before, but this time he stayed a while and came back three times. He drank the water and found some food. He was small for a skunk, about the same size as the fox squirrel. Even six hours later, we could tell he'd been by because of his odor.

Maybe we hadn't seen the Wilson's phalaropes before, because they stayed on the far side of the big lake like the avocets did, but at half the size they were even harder for us to see at that distance. I finally just got lucky and noticed a few closer to our shore. They were new to us.

I thought I’d found three different wetland grasses — green, red, and wheat-gold — but it’s all one plant: phragmites, or common reed grass. The wetlands’ ultimate shape-shifter. They’re the shape-shifters of a marsh, and once you notice them, they pretty much define the habitat.

In August, when there were millions of blackbirds, they seemed to need to claim their spots in the reeds on the far bank. Young yellow-headed blackbirds would often stay when we got too close for their parents, and they were fun to watch. One hanging onto two branches was the cutest.

With so few birds, it was a joy to see a single glossy ibis at the Alamosa refuge. It flew, and I was lucky enough to get a whole series of photos of him. He wasn't especially iridescent, but I didn't mind, just glad he was there. We don't see many of them and I love all of the long-legged birds.

I’d seen a lot of August sunrises, but this one felt different. The orange band was so narrow and bright, with the rest of the sky staying cool and still above it. I was likely because of the smoke from those wildfires in nearly states. I didn’t remember seeing this kind of clean split before.

The wildfire haze that blanketed Monte Vista brought us a week of striking, otherworldly sunrises. Even with the geese flying through clouds lit in vibrant oranges and purples, the beauty is bittersweet. We were aware, each morning, that this light came at a cost. The fires in Arizona and Utah...

I didn’t have much energy, so I sat quietly and watched the blackbirds. Thousands of them, red and yellow all mixed together, but I was waiting for just those three redwings to line up perfectly. While I waited, you spotted the marsh wren—and I loved that I captured him too.

We almost never saw another vehicle on the refuge, except when the sandhill cranes arrived. But on this Monday we did see another vehicle. While I was taking photos of this wonderful little night heron that we always looked for, they drove by and we know they never saw him.

At MVNWR, I gasped and you stopped. Two big buck deer and a doe just past the entrance watched us, and we moved on without disturbing them. A minute later, the great blue heron had to leave as soon as he saw me. It was still fairly dark and he was on the other side of the lake.

We took the road in the previous October and it was snowed in, and we waited until August because even in July some of our jeep trails would still not be open, and by September it could be dangerous again. It was all we had wished for, and we made it on a gorgeous blue-sky day.

We had a break from 100 degree temperatures, but our visitors were gone. I was surprised to hear a chickadee and even got a photo of one, but every day, even with temperatures in the 80s birds and bunnies were few and far between, and most hurried off. Humidity was 17%.

So nice to see you again! Always so appreciate your support! :heartpumpred::waving3:

Each year the greenhouse had very few cannas when we got there, so we went earlier this year. We picked red ones, and the only ones there had bronze foliage. Each year the cannas surprised us, and this year we got through most of July with only pea-sized hail. The colors were amazing!

Kate's chiari surgery has her getting daily seizures now, some as much as 15 minutes. I told her BFF to tell her Happy Birthday for me because I can't get through, and this is her reply: She will be told. She got up today by herself and ended up having a seizure and falling down. They switched...

A few iris flowers bloomed in the area that had been a bog a few years back. I remembered going out into the field and turning my travel shoes into spares when it was unexpectedly soggy. There had been dozens of plants but we were thankful to see at least a few survived the drought.

A new bird for the trail camera in mid-July: the pine siskin. And after a violent hailstorm without damage, there were more visits to the feeders when the daily highs dropped back into the 70s. I didn't know if we had more monsoons or it was just that I could see each one on the camera.

Even hundreds of yards away, I could tell the little speck of white on the far shore moved like an avocet, so I took many dozens of photos. It was weeks later, when I had sifted through them all, I settled on my favorite. It was the one with the bonus of a whole family of cinnamon teal ducks.