Nature Journalism - Birdsong
“The birds provided something people couldn’t - comfort in my own skin, peace in stressful times, and acceptance without question of who I am or what I do.”
A pair of American robins have chosen my Walden as a resting place, and I couldn’t be any happier about their arrival. While they were unexpected (I’ve seen nothing but crows for the past two weeks), I’m grateful that they have chosen to share my Walden with me. Maybe it was theirs, to begin with. Their song, sweet and light, has become the sound that I most associate as a sign of an early presence of Springtime in the Pacific Northwest. I savor it the most when it is followed by March’s sun showers that, by 7 a.m. melts the night’s fresh blanket of frost covering the field in front of my Walden and allow for the promise of new life underneath as if by magic. My beloved Japanese maple tree, whose twisted and bare branches I’ve been inexplicably drawn to for the past three months have taken on a new form: the perfect perch for my robin friends to begin their mornings in my company. They always elect to share a branch; sitting at either end (perhaps to balance their weight on the otherwise flimsy branch) and pay very little notice of me. As time passes in my Walden, my sunny space is bathed in that beautiful, gold-specked yellow that I’m completely enamored by. It’s worth noting that at this time of year when the sun makes its rare appearances, it doesn’t bring a promise of warmth. In fact, without cloud cover, the day will almost certainly reach the cold temperatures of Winter. In other words, it’s a false promise that I tend to be tricked by every now and then in my pursuit of springtime.
The robins usually take their leave as soon as the neighborhood wakes up around them. They always glance at each other beforehand as if they’re checking in with each other before they take off into the morning sky. Perhaps as we grow closer to spring, the robins will bring back some of their friends. I have begun to take comfort in the presence of these robins in my Walden. Not only does it make me feel as if two other souls view my little place as worthy of their attention, but it makes me excited to see the new flora and fauna that this next season will bring. Winter in my Walden was nothing short of beautiful (I had the opportunity to see it completely covered in sparkling snowfall, bathed in endless rain showers, and even flooded).
Seeing how my little spot has undergone so much change in such a short amount of time has not only reignited interest in my home but has also encouraged what I can only describe as being “a grateful spirit”). Discovering the beauty of my Walden has been one of the most unexpected blessings. This will be the first year since beginning college that I will be able to experience the change of seasons in Washington state, and because of this blog, I will have the opportunity to fully appreciate it. I plan to make the most of it while the world around me is still quiet enough for me to hear the birdsong. Who knows when I will be able to experience something like it again after my life returns back to normal?
* An update on the squirrel: The pot-bellied squirrel I described in my last post has also recently made its return to my Walden and can be seen continuing to make multiple mad dashes across the driveway. It has now clearly been decided that its journey must always be made from the right to the left rather than back and forth as it did before its sudden departure last month. It is still a mystery as to how it returns to the starting position within seconds. Should I attempt to solve it?