Halt!

"Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly."  That line from the song "Can't help lovin' dat man o' mine" from "Showboat" kept running through my head down in the barn.  The birds were conspicuous by their absence yesterday.  Not a chirp.  No birds in the air, no birds in the barn.  It was as if they also felt the heat pressing down.  Mice forewent grain in favor of the milk, climbing over each other to get the moisture.  I had a moment of panic when, later in the day, I found that the sprinkler that I'd set to water the herb garden was just spitting, even when I turned the faucet full bore.  The thought that the well would go dry is terrifying.  It did come back later enough that I could give deck plants a drink and take a shower.  Bessie splashed in her pool several times.  The cats either sleep in the house or under the feed barn when it's hot, not inclined to wet their feet under any circumstances.  I know the hummers are out and about even though I don't see much of them.  The feeders are drained almost as soon as I fill them, and I'm filling all three twice a day.

Nearly ninety degrees in the house, even the ceiling fans aren't cooling much.  Everything comes to a screeching halt in summer, including the birds.