Our house is five years old, and they’re just starting to build on the last half dozen lots in our neighborhood of one hundred or so homes. That means there are few mature trees in our neighborhood, and therefore, have been few birds…until this year. We’re in our third summer here, and what a difference a year makes. Starting this spring, the birds arrived. Most trees are still not mature, but there are lots of them, and we have apparently reached a bird tipping point. It’s wonderful.
You don’t realize how important birds are until they’re not around. A robin signaled spring this year. Their morning gossip is loud enough to be heard in the house when I get up before dawn. And the swallows jealously guard their nest in the eaves of the house across the street, dive bombing us when we take our trash to the curb. If only they knew how grateful we are that they are here, they would know we are friend and not foe.
When the girls have grown and we downsize out of this house, the trees will be mature, and the birds will be thick. I will miss them; they add joy to my life. And I will search for a new place where they thrive, for I have found that I do not want to live without the lessons their songs can teach.
“Faith is the bird that feels the light when the dawn is still dark.” –Rabindranath Tagore