I’m an early riser, in general. I’m usually up and about by 5am or so. Sometimes I wake up earlier, or later, or just am not ready to crawl out of bed, and while I’m laying there trying to decide whether to get up or not, I hear the birds starting to get going.
Yes, intellectually, I know that they’re arguing about territory, or saying, “Fuck me! Fuck ME!” but the back of my mind doesn’t care.
I find the bird song to be delightful. I can just lay there, and instead of the earworm I wake up with, or thinking about what I have to do during the day, I simply listen to the bird song. It’s peaceful, relaxing, and damn near soothing.
Unfortunately, I now live in an urban setting where I hear only three bird voices on most mornings – Great tailed grackle, White-wing dove, and Mockingbird.
In a small town in the Missouri Ozarks, I once had a backyard right out my window, which the neighbor allowed to become somewhat brushy and overgrown. I would wake on a spring morning and count off a dozen species of songbirds starting their day, always starting up in the same order.
Last winter, I spent ten nights in a little hotel in the Sri Lanka jungle, and at daybreak, the sound of the birds became almost deafening for about a half hour.
I like hearing the crows that have taken over our neighborhood. They are so much better than the stupid pigeons that use to live around and make a terrible sounds. We don’t really have any songbirds around here that I know of.
Some city birds, Robins most notably, alter their habits in city settings. I’m often up through the night and I hear them at all hours. Robins are not a harbinger of dawn around here.
I am a fortunate person. There’s a wren’s nest on the outside of the bedroom. The pond scoggins (white herons?) fly over at sunrise and sunset. We have about 3 acres of old growth oaks and pines behind the house, with a nest of mating owls, a pair of hawks, and a pair of eagles. Woodpeckers and wild turkeys visit, and I haven’t taken down the big Christmas wreath in the front window, because it now houses a mockingbird nest.
Currently, our will leaves our little acres to the local university raptor center, because old growth is getting rare and 3 acres with owls, hawks, and eagles is pretty scarce. It’s a pretty little part of the planet.
I can only hear the birds when I have my hearing aid on and when I do hear them I turn my HA up to hear them better. I like listening to the birds sing too.
I would like to wake up to the chirping of songbirds, but the goddamn crows are so loud I have to sleep with the windows closed or they wake me up at 5 a.m. with their **CAW CAW CAW **and that’s about an hour earlier than I want to get up. I live in a bird-rich neighborhood, though, and enjoy no shortage of bird song. And I love corvids, when they’re not waking me up too early.
I would advise you not to move to Guam, where the bird population has been severely diminished since the inadvertent introduction of the brown tree snake near the end of World War II.
It’s just before they fly into the light of the dark, black night.
I agree with the OP. Yet, I remember a time when I cursed those feathered fuckers for having the gall to sing while i was trying to sleep. Now I find them a sweet melody in the background of my dawn’s slumber. It’s an avian symphony around here these days.
We’ve a few (i believe they are) mockingbirds that like to sing into the night this time of year. Last year, Mr. Mocker was perched about 50 yards from the bedroom window. It was midnight when I went to bed and that little sucker was going on and on and on. I was fascinated by dude’s tenacity so I opened the window and recorded a few minutes of it. I don’t know when he finally stopped.
Granted that it’s not good for songbirds. After we couldn’t deal with our housemate a few months ago, they moved to Guam. Our primary concern all along was the minor daughter. How’s the island for kids?
We once scheduled a group hike alongside the Potomac river on a day of unpredictable rain. It rained until just before the start and was still dripping as we walked. A few hundred yards down the path, we passed a stand of trees filled with a huge flock of birds…probably starlings…all chattering and singing and flipping their wings in unadulterated joy at their shower. The sound and activity were awe-inspiring in the literal sense; their exultation infectious.
I felt like we were eavesdropping on some sacred rite of the wild not meant for us. It was a privilege we have not forgotten.
I love listening to the birds outside from about 5:20 till 5:45. Right at 5:45 now our African Grey begins very loud whistles, screams, and exhortations (today it was “peanut butter” over and over).
On WGBH the morning classical musical show “Morning Pro Musica” hosted by Robert J Lurtsema would start every morning with bird sounds slowly segueing into Handel’s “Dawn Chorus”. Lots of Bostonians woke up to this every day.
