They woke me up at the crack of dawn.
Looked out my window. Here’s what I (heard and) saw …
On the Wires now live at qarrtsiluni in the ‘Animals in the City’ issue.
It was early. It was loud. It was the beginning of June and I’d just returned from a trip abroad. I’d spent a full month in Central Europe, where birds sang for me all day long (look + listen).
I missed them. I missed their volume, the forest they hid in, the softness of their songs. I longed for 4 am when they consistently woke me from slumber. I doubted if Vancouver birds would ever offer such wonder.
My vacation was over. I had jet lag. I yearned for the birds, and the company they’d offered. I longed for all I’d left behind in my vacation spot—the unfamiliar newness of a different culture. I wasn’t psychologically ready to launch back into my routinized life at home. I didn’t want to wake-up to the typical morning silence I remembered. But much to my surprise, my first morning back began with bird songs of a different color. Loud. Sharp. Insistent. Perhaps they were telling me I’m not alone. Perhaps they were reminders of ever-present wonder. Perhaps the crows were saying,
“Wake-up to the beauty right here at home.”
For side-by-side contrast: