Several years ago, a colleague of mine--who is also an avid and gifted birder--told me that every spring, when birds start to migrate back to their summer grounds, she has vivid dreams. They are filled with flocks of colorful, sweet-sounding birds flying in the sky over her head, through her bedroom window, larger than life and thrilling. I remember that I laughed some when she first told me this, thinking, Every spring you dream about birds? Although I studied birds for my own research and thoroughly enjoy birdwatching as a hobby, I thought that she must reside on a totally separate plane of birding fandom, to have them infiltrate her dreams in such a spectacular way every year.
And then, a couple years ago, something happened. I found that when we left the bedroom window open at night, and I'd wake up to the dawn chorus, the early morning cacophony of bird songs, my heart was alight even at 4 am. In the nights that followed, I'd start to dream, incredible and larger than life dreams of snowy owls swooping down over my head, of hawks and songbirds dancing in the sky. I would wake full of the excitement my dream self had had, looking around for someone to confide in who would care about these wonderful bird dreams as much as I did.
Spring migration has settled in once more, and I find that my eyes are often pointed the sky as soon as I step outside. Our neighborhood is filled with a diverse blend of different species, in spite of it being part of such an urban metropolis. We have red-tailed hawks, ospreys, turkey vultures, mockingbirds, robins, cardinals, blue jays, grackles, song sparrows, cowbirds, red-bellied woodpeckers, downy woodpeckers and catbirds, to name the most commonly seen visitors.
A few days ago was, quite simply, a day of birds. As I walked to work, I noticed a starling in a yard I walked past, busily scuttling soil back and forth with its feet, presumably in search of insects. Not a minute later, I was greeted by a catbird, sitting atop a fence line, not at all afraid of me as I walked past, unable to keep my eyes off it. Another catbird flew into my path a short few steps later. As I turned the corner, I heard the low, croaking, spine-tingling call of a common raven. I looked up and saw it at the top of a building. Ravens? Here? I thought it must be a crow, but as it took to flight, it seemed too big to be a crow, and besides, nothing can be mistaken for the raven call. I watched it as it swooped the air, and then started to descend...down toward me. I stood rooted, unable to move or think, just entranced by this big, guttural-sounding bird as it seemed poised to fly into me. Actually, it never intended to fly into me, as the bird arched back into the air, flying over my head and into the forest of urban infrastructure beyond me. A day of birds.
When I returned home that evening, one of my first tasks was to water the hanging baskets of flowers I'd gotten the weekend before. The midday sun dries the soil so fast, so I've learned my daily post-work chore will have to be to water them. I love it, though, as it gives me an excuse to be outside, looking for new birds, identifying the ones I already know, saying hello to Mr. and Mrs. Smith, the mourning dove couple that perches, side by side, on the electrical wire above our street. As I took down the first basket, I was surprised to find a nest inside with one translucent egg taking up residence right in the middle. I breathed out a sigh of joyful contentment. An egg! A bird in my neighborhood knew the right house in which to make its home, for surely none of my neighbors would be more thrilled than me to find a bird nest in their hanging basket! Since that day, two more eggs have been laid by what I think is a mockingbird. The biggest challenge has been keeping my plant watered without disturbing the nest. Unfortunately, I think the plant will suffer a cruel death by dehydration once the chicks have hatched, as I would never disturb a new mother from her fresh, newly-hatched babies.
Ahhh!!!...days of birds.
No comments:
Post a Comment