Since we moved into this home in the fall, one of the earliest memories here is of opening the back breezeway door to the loudest chorus of birds I have ever heard. It was like a swarm of thousands of bees, but at less of a buzzing sound and of the most pleasing tone and pitch I have ever heard. My father-in-law was helping us out with some renovations at the time and was just coming out of the house. So I stopped him and beckoned him to listen to the music coming from the back of the house. This was before he got his hearing aids and sadly he could not even hear one chirp! The birds noticed our presence and in an exodus accompanied by the rushing of hundreds of wings that sounded like one loud whisper, they rose simultaneously and with a whoosh were gone.
Since we are in the throes of fall again and winter is approaching rather quickly, I have been conscious of our bird choruses many times over the last few weeks. They will swarm a cluster of trees and have their little chat with each other, before repeating the same departing performance and moving on to their next destiny.
One would think that their continuous activity would have them resting in complete silence, trying to conserve some energy. But instead, it appears as if they are enjoying a quick gossip with each other, catching up on the latest news with someone they haven't seen in while. These flocks could be viewed as huge villages where one doesn't always see everyone on a daily basis. Or perhaps this is their own version of speed-dating? Two minutes to give a quick blurb, check each other out and, once that timer sounds, away you go!
But what has always fascinated me is their shape-shifting formations. Driving down our country roads with the clear, fall sky as their backdrop, it's hard to concentrate on the road once these flocks make their appearance. Forming great funnels like incoming tornadoes or drawing their inky squiggles across the horizon as if they are practising their cursive writing in some unknown language, they never stop moving but girate in one continuous motion. I can't help but wonder if there are any bumps and bruises along the way as there must be hundreds or even thousands of these black winged creatures moving together without direction or plan.
Or is there a ring-leader who gives the command like a performance in a three-ring circus in which the sky is their limitless backdrop? Not once have I seen one bird suddenly drop from the sky as I'm driving underneath these shape-shifting clouds. Although they have showered my car with their purple calling cards like sudden bursts of rainshowers, a sign that they probably just finished feasting on the local Baco or Cabernet.
As a musician, I can't help but enjoy the music these flocks make. Even without a conductor, their united song is like a symphony, raw and honest and unedited. On their own, they are simple creatures, not much to look at and fairly easy to ignore. Even their individual chirp would probably be something the average person would not take notice of. But together, even their simple, dark colour seems to blend beautifully in the synchronicity and movement comparable to that of a graceful dancer.
In a tumultuous world, perhaps there's a lesson to be learned here. We too, as a community, can work together. We can sit and talk and imitate their happy chatter instead of always being caught up in the negativity of this world. We can work together to create beautiful art, dances and impromptu symphonies for all to appreciate. There are lessons to be learned in nature all around. We just have to open our eyes and ears.
Lolita Schimann Hale
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