Poor Will's Almanack: June 25 – July 1, 2019

The Milkweed Bug Mating Moon was new and dark, just a shadow high in the east before dawn. The the rain had finally ended, and the barometer was rising. By the time the grackles woke up at 6:00, the chorus of cardinals and doves and sparrows was loud and raucous. Then a breeze passed through the trees, and the grackles became louder, their calls drowning out the other singers as the sun came up. This eruption of grackle activity takes place in my yard every year at the beginning of June. Almost a decade ago, their excited clucking, cackling and scrawing came on Pentecost Sunday, the ancient Christian commemoration of a mighty wind that accompanied the fabled descent of the Holy Ghost upon the twelve apostles of Jesus Christ. It seemed to me at that time, as it seemed to me this year, that all the grackle fledglings had left their nests together, and that the entire community of grackles was energized. The wave of their language grew and grew throughout the day as though every grackle