Jun 21 2008
Early Birds
The Bedside Book of Birds by Graeme Gibson
I woke up at 5:30 this morning. It was unintentional and unusual for me as I am, above all else, not a morning person. It had been a long time since I had been awake then, and I had forgotten how much I actually loved that time of day. The birds have just woken up and are chattering amongst themselves. At this hour, there are yet no horns honking, no jackhammers pounding through the sidewalk — just the birds. True, when I part the curtain to feel the still-cool air and listen more carefully, I don’t hear as many birds as I did growing up in the rural Midwest. But I can still hear the robin going through that loop of complicated chirps that never seems quite the same twice. I sometimes catch the song of a cardinal flying by, bobbing along with “bird-ee, bird-ee, bird-ee.” I do miss hearing the wrens, though. Every spring back home, the male wrens would start early, preparing their nests in the bird houses, working hard to impress the ladies. When they were ready they sat on the peaks of the houses, puffed out their feathers and called out to the females. The looked like little tenors on stage at the opera: chests full, heads tilted to the sky, wings fluttering earnestly against their sides as they hit the high note. I was impressed, at least. They usually had two broods a season, so the males’ call trilled above the cicadas throughout the summer.
Read more: Birding, Nature & Wildlife, NewsLlalan specializes in all things Ohio, but has funny stories from all over the US and Canada, plus a few snort-inducing ones from Thailand. And not only does she read books from around the world, she also samples beers in as many languages as possible. Favorite style: the multi-national American Double IPA.
