It’s flower season, folks. With the flowers comes a crescendo of birdsong: as the flowers appear the level of bird activity increases. Neotropical migrants are returning from their other summer in the Southern Hemisphere to join the year-round residents in a lovely symphony (or sometimes cacophony). I can’t look at these flowers without hearing that music.
The soundtrack for these prairie-dwelling balsamroot flowers is composed of a base melody provided by resident Western Meadowlarks: a song and bird so lovely that multiple states (including Oregon) have named it their state bird. It’s a bird the pioneers loved; its song was a bright spot on an otherwise difficult and trying journey through a ” bleak” new land. Amid that steady trilling tune the harmonious twitter of White-crowned Sparrows, the syncopated calls of raptors, and if you’re lucky, the bass tones of the turkey gobble, complete the musical masterpiece of the grasslands.
Somehow, that masterpiece puts me at peace. It brings me back to a reality beyond the culture of man to a more grounded and vital way of life. It’s simple and complex all at once. That simplicity brings hope; the complexity breeds wonder, and that provides solace in a crazy fabricated world.
Sing Meadowlark, sing!