The weakened Autumn sun is coming through my window, along with a beautiful song. Winding its way through the glass, I can clearly hear nature’s choral music group, tuning up, joining in, and singing it’s little heart’s out.
There is a group of small birds, mostly chickadees that live in the giant rhododendron by our deck. They flock together and lift their beaks to the sky, flighty, and skittish, with the slightest breeze. But the chirping and tweets that come from them is magnificent.
How they manage to dive and dodge each other, jumping from branches to the bird feeder, is beautiful to watch. They so resemble a school of small minnows, flashing by. The damp autumn air is their water.
With no provocation, they lift off with split-second timing and disappear to the safety of the nearby bushes. And then when one decides it is safe, they descend upon the bird feeder again.
Somewhere in the twittering, and song there are warning signals and joyous exaltation. The sounds when they are eating from the illegal bird feeder we have hidden in the garden, are happier when there is an abundance of food.
When the weather is about to change, the tempo speeds up. There is urgency in the singing. If it is a sunny day, they rival the most beautiful choral groups I have ever heard, there is harmony in every note.
I might not love living in the city, and my heart might be longing to be transplanted to the country. But until then, I have one of the best examples of nature’s choral music living right outside my window. And if that is as close to the country as I can get right now, I will take it.