It was so nice to see the return of the Bohemian Waxwings today. I looked out of the kitchen window at noon and there they were gorging themselves on Mountain Ash berries. I quickly grabbed my camera and went out. No jacket -23°, I even forgot to take off my slippers. They were a gregarious bunch, flying from the high birches, swooping down on the lower tree laden with frozen fruit. Each making a faint high-pitched whistle, that when heard all together through the winter air can only make a heart happy. I stood under the tree counting myself lucky. When they finally flew, in a hale of flap and tweets I noticed two deer had come beneath the tree to eat the fallen berries and one was within three feet of my slippers. We had all forgotten our place. Waxwings can do that to you.