There no longer exists a reason to return to my home with any real frequency. That being the case, I’ve spent the last three nights at Emily’s house. It’s nice, like a little vacation from the norm. And I’m constantly being fed, always a plus.

I have also acquired a companion. During the first night, I heard a birdsinging. I noted the strangeness of that. It

Birds in a row (Photo credit: The Wren Design)

was 1:30 am, not the usual time for such boisterous avian activity.  The next night, at nearly the same time, the bird began again. It sounded unusual, coming through the walls. Not the mildly irritating, repetitive call of your usual bird. It seemed to have no real pattern. Of course, I couldn’t hear well, so I went outside to better acquaint myself with this mystery bird.

I’ve never heard anything like it. The bird would make the same sound only 3, 4, 5 times, before moving on to another. There was no pattern that I could discern. High, low, rapid, slow, no rythm or pitch was beyond this bird. I was quite impressed, that with so simple a medium, the bird could create so much variety of sound. I stayed to listen for some time. I’m fairly certain I didn’t hear the same set of sounds twice.

Eventually cold and cement sent me inside. Part of my mind must have continued to pay attention, though, because I noticed the an abrupt halt of the sound near 3 am. He was apparently done for the night. Yesterday, near 1:30, he began again, and around 3 he stopped once more.

Tonight I expected it. I sat on the steps before 1:30, reading and waiting. Once more, the bird livened up my night. Tonight, though, I was no longer enraptured with the ever changing song. Tonight, once the singing resumed, I found myself wondering what the bird was after, with such a restless song. I heard no chirped replies, tonight or the other nights. No response to this constant call.

I started wondering why it sang, and in such a random, inconsistent way, so deep into the night. Did it search for something? Was it unable to leave it’s nest, it’s home, to seek it out? Was this some strange rebel bird, questioning the wisdom of it’s elders? Or merely eccentric, ululating to the beat of a different drum, thwarting prescribed notions of behavior just by it’s existance?

I have no answer, of course. But as I thought on these things, I began to wonder what people would be like, should we strip away our words and thumbs. If we could make only the most rudimentary sounds and shelters. In that circumtance, what would a person be trying to convey with such passionate disorder so out of step with the rest. It could be desperation, or flamboyance. Arrogance. Boredom. Lots of things. So the question remains.

I felt a little like it was communicating with me, though. Commiserating with me. During the most difficult hours of the day, those last few, it kept me company, kept me entertained. Made the sounds that perhaps my heart would make, if given voice. Up and down, sad and sweet, so many sounds. Does it count as communication if one party is unaware of the other? I wish I could convey my respect to that bird. Maybe I’ll start practicing ‘bird’, try to bridge the gap.

– Bekkie