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Field Notes, 31 Jul Of 4 blue eggs in the nest, this morning there's nothing left but the skeleton of a baby- bird picked clean by ants. Everything else about the day is cool and diminished, grasses beaten down, dingy-gold. Gray- brown feathers and coyote scat. No foxes. One blue heron lands high in a cottonwood, then flies with slow lolling wingbeats over the creek that's drunk its water dry.