Summer Home of a Winter Wren
I heard a bird singing a very complicated song while I was walking back down The Anvil. The song was familiar to me, but I just could not place it. So I trudged up into the woods to find that bird. It was a Winter Wren. It might be in this picture, but that would be an accident. They are tiny little birds with a big song. I recognized it from one of my ultra-geeky birg song CDs. I have seen a Winter Wren before back home, but they are only there in winter and thus not singing.
Note that the forest floor was covered in moss and decaying wood, and my feet would mush in a couple inches each step I took. It was quite a weird feeling, almost like I could break through and sink up to my knees at any point.