The thing about waking to birdsong in this part of the country is that you can’t remember exactly when the birds were back in numbers. It is hard to say in part because you close the windows when it is too cold outside and fewer sounds drift into the bedroom. And the birds don’t come back all at once. Of course we have birds who are hardy and spend their winters here, but others head south for more warmth during the winter nd return in the spring. The calendar puts the change of season in March, but it takes a while longer for the warmth and moisture to combine into green lawns. I think we’re there now.

I’ve rearranged the shed and the snow blower is buried back where the lawn mower spent the winter. The garden has been tilled and seeds for some of the plants have been sown. There is a host of outdoor work that needs to be done, but the place is starting to look like summer is on its way.

The green will be brief if we don’t get more moisture. A few cloudy and misty days won’t make up for a winter with far too little snow. But we are optimists, especially at this time of the year, and we are hoping for some soggy days in May and June to get us set for the summer’s heat.

So I am listening to the birds this morning as I prepare for another busy day and feeling grateful for their presence.

I’m sure that my hearing isn’t as acute as it was when I was younger. I’ve spent enough hours operating machinery and power tools, not always with the proper hearing protection. I have, however, retained enough hearing to make conversation pleasant, to enjoy music, and to delight in the sounds the birds are making out in the yard.

I suppose that the birds are attracted to our yard in part because there are a few patches newly planted to grass with plenty of seed close to the surface. I doubt that the birds will eat enough seed to make a difference in the lawn and grass is relatively easy to grow, so I have no problem sharing with them. I’ve never invested the time and energy to distinguish many of the birds by their songs, but a few are distinctive enough for me to know.

One of the birds that I miss living in the hills is the Western Meadowlark. We have them in the prairies surrounding the hills, but the distinctive whistle of the bird is not often heard here where we live. Most of the rest of my life I have lived in places frequented by meadowlarks. In fact I’ve lived in two states, Montana and North Dakota, which have chosen the meadowlark as state bird. South Dakota is the only state I’ve lived in where the state bird is an immigrant, imported from China, and where the state bird is a game bird that is hunted. Most other states don’t have hunting seasons for their state birds. I must admit that I have enjoyed eating pheasants, so I can’t complain about the choice.

We humans have been slow to learn how important birds are in our lives. They are so numerous that we take them for granted. It is thought that the last passenger pigeon died a century ago even though they once were so numerous that the flocks darkened the skies. They had endured all kinds of changes in the earth, but couldn’t make the evolutionary adaptations to escape the pressures of growing human populations and over hunting. We’ve since learned that birds can often give us signs of imminent threat. It isn’t just the canary in the coal mine that can warn of unsafe conditions for humans. The rapid decline in birds of prey after the over use of insecticides in the post World War II time gave us a warning about how we were polluting the environment not only to the detriment of the birds, but making a toxic environment for ourselves as well.

During the decade that we lived in Idaho we would occasionally visit the Birds of Prey center, where Eagle and other raptor rehabilitation programs were providing a second chance for near-extinct species. The Peregrin Falcon was brought back from the verge of extinction by a carefully managed captive breading and release program. The California Condor is another bird who is being reintroduced to its original habitat after having the population sink precariously low.

What we have learned is that we do well to pay attention to the birds. They have much to teach us about the world and how to make our way in it.

It is the nature of our world that we are all connected. There is no species that can say to another, “I have no need of you.” The connections are sometimes obvious, sometimes less so. I’m not always pleased to be startled by a spider when I’m crawling under the deck, but I’m grateful for its role in keeping insects populations in check. I’m grateful that the swallows eat mosquitoes.

Some of our non human neighbors are a delight just because they are fun to watch. I’m not a hunter, so we don’t eat wild turkey, but we enjoy having them come in and out of our yard. It is mostly for the entertainment value. The big birds are messy and rather silly to watch, but compared to human neighbors, they don’t make much work, they don’t keep us awake when we want to be sleeping, and they are nearly as interesting to watch.

Beyond all of these things, birds, by flying, stir our imaginations. I grew up around airplanes and have had many different opportunities to look at the earth from above in airliners, private airplanes, a sailplane, a hang glider and helicopters. There is something very wonderful about the perspective one gets from flying. Birds have been our primary inspiration for human flight.

So it is a good day to wake to the song of the birds. May I hear their songs for all the days of my life.

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