A SATURDAY AFTERNOON

It's almost three on a sunny afternoon. Feeding time. The green rustling canopy overhead has nearly reached its maturity. above it, on silent still wings, hawk and eagle soar silently on the gentle updrafts.They peer down, seeking prey. One, my friendly striped and long-tailed critter, pauses, hearing or smelling the danger signs I cannot dcipher. Then she continues cautiously from spilled seeds to spilled seeds, filling her pouches for unseen children in her den. The predator birds soar away and as always happens in our green yard at about the same time every day, the songbirds appear for afternoon tea. One can almost see the downward departure of the feed from the hanging feeders. A lone hummer comes by to check out the new sugar water tube. Crowded on the branches of the oak black walnut trees are four or five varieties of sparrow, six kinds of woodpecker in line at the suet cage and orioles, cardinals, and a host of  other small birds in for afternoon tea. In the background, the purring sound of a distant mower, and a lone black bird with shining head dive bombs the big wind chime, providing musical interlude against squacking jays and goldfinches. Peace abounds in the neighborhood. All is well in the valley.