Birds, songs and stories

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

I love birds. I love their songs in the morning and their lullabies at night. I love to watch the soaring hawks and eagles and I delight in translating their busy chatter as they go about their daily bird business. I learned to speak bird from the bird family that built their nest in the drive-through window at a Brighton, Colorado bank. I made the daily deposits for the food service department, and idled away my workday's end, waiting in line. The birds were hard at work refurbishing their nest, and the male would take off to the east, swooping low and fast, scanning the open lot across the street as he flew. Soon, he would return, twig, string or straw in his beak. Almost as soon as he entered the nest, the piece of building material would come floating down. That's when the female would put in an appearance, with plenty on her mind. She soon ceases her chatter and takes flight, to the east, across the same landscape. Papa bird is hot on her trail, eager to fetch whatever treasure captures her fancy. I've spoken bird ever since.

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