At six o’clock Saturday morning I heard
the song of a cardinal. I thought it rude of him to be so noisy so early in the
morning and felt that he owed me an apology for waking me up on my day off. But
by 9 o’clock as I was hanging my laundry to dry, hoping to enjoy a peaceful
morning, my tranquility was disturbed by a neighbor’s air compressor, and
another neighbor’s motorcycle. At that point I understood it was we humans who
owed him an apology.
Soon after, I took my bike for a ride, the
streets for the better part silent due to the pandemic. I heard a woodpecker at
work, as well as the calls of other birds I could not recognize. Like many of
my kind, I have spent more time in factories than I have in nature. I can
recognize the voices of countless celebrities, but few birds, can tell you who
sang thousands of songs I don’t even like, but can put a beak to very few bird
songs.
But in the relative silence, I hear many
birds’ voices now. They seem to be speaking to me, asking if we cannot maintain
the silence we’ve been engaged in of late. I would be glad to oblige, but my
voice too gets drowned out by the noises of the factories and the voices on the
radio and television. My voice is heard no more than the birds, and is far less
appealing.
Sadly, I know what is coming. In a matter
of weeks. When the summer they have waited so long for will hit full stride,
not only will the countless aural annoyances civilization has produced return
in full force, but another horror will be unleashed upon them. The 4th of July
is not far away, a time when children and adults alike will be playing with
their trauma-inducing fireworks. I feel bad enough for my dog, who slinks down
into the cold, dark basement every time one surprises her. But the birds have
nowhere to go. Their homes, their places of safety, are the trees, and they are
no refuge from the noise and the explosions.
Still and all, I am amazed they are
willing to take up residence in my neighborhood. I’m amazed at how much nature
still exists in the places where we’ve done our best to pave it over. I look
out front to see the birds gathered around the feeder I had bought for my
mother and inherited when she passed. There are many times I look back and think
of how I could have done more for my mom, but in this instance, I feel that I
gave her a special gift. I think of her alone, as I am now, listening to all
the sounds of birds, appreciating the beauty and joy nature provides. I hope
that someday when I am home-bound, someone thinks to place a bird feeder near
my window.
It is an amazing thing to travel far to
see the natural wonders of the world, but there is something equally beautiful
in appreciating the little miracles that flutter around us.
If they could just sleep in a little
later.
No comments:
Post a Comment