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This Morning Outsideby Diane PorterApril 10, 2013 It's the latest date of spring arrival I've ever recorded for the brown thrasher in my neck of the woods. This one must have flown all night, maybe a couple of hundred miles, through rain and lightning and thunder. This morning, no songs were forthcoming, but the thrasher voraciously attacked whatever was lurking hidden in the forest duff.
—Diane Porter
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