Backyard bushes, robbed of summer’s greenery, stand bare and gray in the winter night. The birds don’t mind. When moonlight silvers the yard, they crowd deep into the thick twigs, twittering and chirping, content to be hidden by darkness and their stubbly cover.
A few wild forest creatures slip into the yard. A raccoon, a ‘possum, and a skunk waddle toward sunflower seeds scattered on the ground and the water in the bird bath. These night creatures are furtive and quiet but the birds know about them.
As a shadow glides across the yard, the animals crouch, afraid to move, hoping they are hidden from the owl’s yellow eyes and sharp talons.
The backyard at night in winter is a mysterious place, a strange and wild place that vanishes with the rising of the sun.
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