The early birds

Morning is the red-winged blackbird's time, its multi-tone call evoking the Iowa countryside ripening green and gold in sultry summer months. Two Canada geese stand ankle-deep in marshy water, keeping dutiful eye on five fluffy, camouflaged goslings learning how to live geese lives. Ducks, mallards and one all dark, a stranger, float on the glassy reservoir, sometimes rocking forward tail over beak to snap up tasty underwater morsels. Mourning doves whuff disconsolately away as I approach, and commoners - robins and swallows mostly - take flight to avoid me as well. As I round a bend in the path, my eye is suddenly caught by the jewel of the morning run, standing at the rim of the small lake: a blue heron, tall and haughty, unconcerned as I slow to stare at its unexpected, regal presence.

Morning runs used to be a chore, uncomfortable and dragging, but in recent weeks they have been among some of the most satisfying and engaging miles I've done - cool temperatures, good legs, and seldom do I share the reservoir path with anything but the (literal) early birds.