repost August 30 2014
Four a.m. and the horizon has cracked enough for the first light of a new day to seep through. In another hour it will be broad. Dawnings satisfy something deep within me and I may fall back to sleep for an hour or so but if I miss the first hint of a breaking day I feel a loss. In the summer, with windows wide, – smell of dewy earth, sound of nudging leaves, feel of breeze – it is magic. And there are the birds.
At this time of year a robin trills, and it is a true trill, that expression between song and chatter. Is it encouraging the dawn or is the dawn encouraging it? I wonder.
Then a sparrow starts to chirrup. The solitary aubade may continue for quite some time before others join in. But when the voices are many, boy, do they carry on. This morning it lasted across two hours with few breaks. Then silence. Then a continuation again. Why are they speaking? What are they saying? It got a bit monotonous after awhile and I was tempted to order a 'Hush, won't you!' out the window. This will silence them for a moment but then they would start up again with rather demanding chirpings as they know my voice and associate it with the scattering of seeds. So I did not raise their expectations at four thirty in the morning. I didn't want to feel I must go out and feed them in night attire.
While the sparrows were conversing (and it is not singing but talking)the local crows burst into speech in the distance and the juxtaposition of sound was intriguing. It wasn't the 'Caw, caw, the wind is raw' of a November statement. No, it was simply 'caw! caw!caw!', a vocal delight in what was promising to be a warm and sunny day.
The common sparrow perches frequently on my attention throughout the day. Common? Hah. Observe one closely. I would imagine the design and colour of their feathers is similar to a fingerprint, to a snowflake. Try to capture it on paper with paints. Or simply to describe it. Whenever I have had a sparrow in hand the awe takes on the added dimension of texture. Downy yet firm. Exquisite.
A second brood of babies are increasing the character of bird gazing. If human babies seem neckless then baby sparrows appear legless. They crouch on the ground with mouth open, wings vibrating, squawking. The food is right there in front of them but they want to be fed. I used to think it was because the parent bird sort of chewed the food first. But there doesn't seem to be a time lapse. Crumbs of corn chips got picked up by Dad and stuffed immediately into Junior. He (the youngster) would sit patiently and silently in the midst of other babies being fed but as soon as his own parent(s) showed up he went again into the squat and holler.
A starling on the cherry tree yesterday had its back to me and caught my attention with its head nodding sideways. Back and forth. Back and forth. I wondered what it was doing until I realized it had a cherry in its beak and was trying strenuously to pluck it from the tree. Finally it did. I cheered.
I was too surprised to think about applauding as I watched a crow take an empty pop can to the top of my neighbour's driveway, release it, and follow its progress in a run and hop as it rolled down the hill, pecking at it to move it faster, redirecting it when it got stuck. Birds do play!
Ten p.m. and not completely dark until a single robin trills down the night and I sigh myself indoors.