Genuine heat made its presence known today, so, naturally, I decided to visit the warmest, least sheltered place, outside of the beach, that I could conjure: the Miner refuge in Stonington... in particular, the grassy meadow that forms the front part of the preserve. I wasn't, however, doing a full-sun trek in an attempt to show how tough I was; rather, I wanted to see if the Bobolinks, those rare grassland-obligate treasures, were back in residence. Bobolinks are a Miner specialty, and the reason that the meadow, a one-time hay field, is spared its traditional twice-a-summer haircut. Such routine farming practices, alas, are a primary reason that these stunning and exceptionally musical birds are in population freefall—their nesting habitat is typically cut at the worst possible time: right when the birds are either nesting or getting ready to do so. But they're safe at Miner, and they take full advantage of the refuge situation. So do I, getting portraits of the birds, who will fly at me if they feel I'm getting too close.