麻豆视频

A songbird roused me at four this morning. Its cheerful call cut through my sleeping synapses like a propeller through still water.

What makes a bird sing so early? Insomnia? Excitement 鈥� new home, new mate? Joy at journey鈥檚 end, at arriving safely back at its northern nesting grounds? I want to sing loud and proud too, whenever we reach our summer nest (a parked camping trailer), even though the journey takes a mere twenty minutes.

I wonder if birds have a networked alarm system. If they take turns waking their avian neighbourhood at the edge of dawn. Because after that first one, on almost any morning, the cheerful call becomes a cacophony. But sometimes it stops then, as though the other birds roused just long enough to chastise that solitary riser. He could, after all, have merely stolen quietly off to eat his sunny side up grubs alone. But then again, in predawn food may be difficult to spot, so why not make merry melody instead?

Forgive me, friends, for I have anthropomorphized. Again.

It seems no one really knows why birds sing so early. Nature writers I鈥檝e read propose several explanations, not mutually exclusive: Earlybird singers are generally male, they say, seizing the quiet stage to signal their vitality and strength to potential mates or to warn away other male birds. The songs travel further in the atmospheric conditions of pre-dawn, they also suggest. (Though that theory has been de-bunked 鈥� birdsong travels equally as far in daylight hours.) They do agree, though, that a bird singing alone in quiet surroundings can be heard more clearly. (A truth indeed. I adore early birdsong, but some mornings, when the singer鈥檚 voice cuts through triple-paned glass and two quilts, I crave a volume button.)

Here鈥檚 something I know for sure. On the mornings when I鈥檝e had children in the house, especially the smallest grandbeans, that solitary bird doesn鈥檛 wake only me. One of those beans in particular always wakes up fully when the bird chorus begins. Then comes small thumping feet, and soon another early bird, a very chatty one, joins Gampa and I in bed. All is lost then.

I pretended to sleep once. The little one stayed quiet for twelve seconds. Then came a surprise: three hard knocks on the top of my skull. I 鈥渨oke up鈥� laughing, which is almost as good as waking up singing, but鈥� really鈥� at four a.m.?

Spring, after a dawdling start, has finally arrived in my part of the prairie. I鈥檓 as unsettled as a grasshopper, as thrilled as a man at an all-you-can-eat free BBQ. And I鈥檓 making the most of it, though not as early as the birds. Nevertheless, I have my own theory regarding why they sing so early. It鈥檚 why I sing too, though never at four a.m.

鈥淚 sing because I鈥檓 happy, I sing because I鈥檓 free. For God鈥檚 eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me.鈥�

Happy spring, all.