One of the highlights of this spring was the visit we received from a flock of cedar waxwings. The showed up one day looking like masked bandits and parked themselves in the bare limbs of our neighbor's Little Leaf Linden tree. A couple times a day they swept in to devour the barries on and under our holly tree. Within a week, most of the berries were off the ground. Gorged on sugar, the flocked moved on.
(Our camera died so I'm borrowing this image from a fine Flickr fan.)
Before this visit, my only association with waxwings was from the opening lines of the epic poem in Vladimir Nabokov's meta novel
Pale Fire. I went around repeating it for weeks:
I am the shadow of the waxwing, slain
By the false azure of the window pane.Nobody got fooled by our windows. I'm looking forward to next year's visit.