Most mornings when I’m out in the yard, the birds start talking before anything else wakes up. It’s just noise at first, little bursts of sound coming from every direction. Half the time it feels like a whole lot of chirping just to chirp.
And the more I hear it, the more I catch myself wondering what the heck they’re saying.
I don’t know bird language. I know people have studied it and figured out what some of those calls mean, but standing out there listening, I couldn’t tell you what they’re saying to each other.
Sometimes I imagine they’re saying normal things. Maybe one’s asking, “Hey Sally, how was your day?” Maybe another’s saying, “You see that guy again, the one with the shovel?” Maybe they’re just checking in like neighbors who don’t have much to say but talk anyway.
Or maybe they’re planning a day of target practice from the branches above.
What I can tell is that some sounds feel sharper than others. Some seem relaxed. Others sound more like a warning, even if I can’t explain why. I hear enough of it that I’m starting to pick up on the difference between everything being fine and something being wrong. Sometimes the birds seem a little more worked up than usual, and you can tell something has changed.
Maybe that’s enough.
I still don’t know what they’re saying.
But I’ve started paying a little more... attention.
Especially when they’re sitting in the tree above me.