Birds

I've been out of New York City for 2 weeks exactly. I've spent the lion's share on Cape Cod, and one thing has struck me as I try to shift my bedtime to the 1 am it will be by the time camp starts. Birds. Lots of 'em.

I'm constantly amazed at how many chirps there are and the different times of day they all chirp. The exact symphony of wildlife is different every hour of the day -- from as early as 3 am until as late as 9 PM.

Being in New York City, I forget how much I love birds. In New York, it's just pigeons -- which, after a run-in my last week there, have now hit me twice in my 4 years of living in the city. (Once across the face, and once just a brush on the hair.) But outside of New York, the birds are beautiful. They sing rather than coo. They glide rather than sputter. They are powerful and majestic and not dirty and bothersome.

Perhaps my favorite bird is the hawk that visits the archery range at camp. He (she? I know nothing of the species to distinguish) tends to visit after I've sent the kids and other counselors to lunch while I clean up and return my clipboard to its lunch-time resting spot where I will pick it up an hour later. He walks around and watches me watch him.

It's nice to be a part of nature again. (And yet, I miss the city.)

And now, the symphony of birds from a 4:30 PM walk.