I love the sound and color of red-winged blackbirds flashing among the cattails. But stay away from their nests at breeding time, they will dive-bomb you without hesitation.
There is a lone pied-billed grebe that visits our pond every fall. It looks like a miniature duck that is overloaded with cargo, making it sit too low in the water. Then it will suddenly disappear like a submersible if it spots you approaching.
This time of year, sandhill cranes start passing over our house by companies and batallions, heading northward and filling the air with strange warbling cries. I always wonder why they return so early, as if they are in a rush to get back home to Canada despite the chill that remains in the air even here, hundreds of miles to the south.