Wednesday, April 27, 2011
The One Thing I Hate About Spring
It's warming up. After the winter we had, 50 degrees and rainy feels lovely. I like this time of year, when you go to work on sunny 60 degree days and the grass changes green between 7:45 a.m. and 5:15 p.m. I pull into the drive and am greeted by the nodding heads of blooming daffodils. The tulip tree in my neighbor's yard is a riot of white, pink, mauve and fuchsia. Birds have returned in copious numbers.
I have learned, over the years, which bird calls belong to which species. A cardinal is different than a robin which is different than a house sparrow which is different than a chickadee. I'm not sure about the juncos or the downy woodpeckers I have seen. I think I recognize the grackles and a blue jay is quite distinctive but I don't see them very often in my yard. Lately, there has been a call I don't recognize and I can't find the owner so I could, perhaps, identify it.
Chirp. Chirp. Chirp. Mija even heard it, got up, went to the window and looked out. I love leaving the windows open, even on semi-muggy summer nights. But I don't love being awakened in the wee hours by some bird that can sleep from noon to 6 p.m. when I have to be wide awake. And it's not like I can yell at it as I would the cats. "Knock it off!" That doesn't quite work.
Oh well, that's the price I pay for having a yard that is bird conducive. Grumble. Where did I put my ear plugs?
Beverage: Edinburgh's Finest tea