Every day now counts for the newly fledged hawks strengthening their wings for the migration, for the third brood of robins above the back door. They watch the world of the garden with interest, but without moving. And every day counts, too, in the woods off the yard. Delicate, forest-dwelling zig-zag goldenrod begins its top-down bloom in the race to seed. High above, in the canopy, the Eastern wood pewee, longest of the tree-top singers, offers his endearing plaintive notes, before he and countless others must head to South and Central America.