Morning Song

04/08/2020

We all know someone who is “up with birds” every morning; those crack of dawn people who rise before the sun because it’s in their DNA to do so. To be clear, I am not one of those people. I am, however, a morning person. I am not sure if this is by design or habit, as there has always been a reason to push out of bed. From school to college to work to babies to pushing teenagers out the door, I have been called to early morning duty for as long as I can remember.

Now I am up with the birds and for the birds. A sweet song pulls me from sleep; song birds whistling the hopeful melody of spring; a song that they will carry through the summer. It takes me right back to childhood and summer mornings that were filled with possibility; inviting me out of bed to discover what I could make of the day. I lie in bed cherishing the flashback feeling until I remember the 3 baby chicks I brought home yesterday. I listen, but cannot hear chick sounds downstairs, so I bolt from bed to check the brooder, worried that the new heat plate may have been too hot or too cold overnight.  Bare feet on cold wood, I smile as I approach the brooder, hearing the sweet chirping of life before seeing them huddled and confused in the corner. I switch on the heat lamp and scoop the three up in one feathered pile to warm them; chirping changes to trilling and then to the little peeps of contentment.

Satisfied with the brooder temperature, I place them back in to eat and shrug on a sweater, open the dog crates and pull the slider door open. Smells of spring and sounds of life invite me outside. I step into my Sloggers and out onto the deck. The geese in the pond extend their necks to see me, honking in alarm at the sight of the dogs. My hens hear the dogs and begin to jump down from their roost inside to coop, each landing with a full-bodied thump and arguing ensues as they jostle for position at the door to come out. I place the food in the run and slide open the door to the bridge, greeting them by name as they emerge and they answer with morning clucking sounds.  Neighborhood crows cajole one another in boisterous conversation, reminding me of the rough-housing of teenage boys.

I stop to breathe; sweet blossoms in the air and I wonder if there is any better way to begin the day. From song birds to chicks to geese to hens and crows; I am grateful for my avian choir and feel blessed. Back inside I push the button on the Kuriig and smell the coffee trickling into my mug. I sit quietly on my stool thinking about the avian cantata when I hear the cadence that makes it complete. “Hellooooo” Motley, my African Grey, calls from behind his blanket with the smooth sing-song voice of a polished office secretary.  “Wanna come out?” he asks.

Up with the birds.

Up for the birds.

It’s the music that soothes my soul.