I saw a robin sitting on a wire chirping on my morning walk. A Robin has a nice range of cheerful tweets, but I prefer the twittering of a finch. The jogger’s quick steps are a part of spring’s morning concerto when I walk my dog. It’s a riot. The woodpeckers bang away a timed percussion while the Cardinals raise three squeals on a horn that is heard above the riotous symphony.
I once thought the ‘who’ of the morning dove was an owl. One day I looked up the pigeon variety I frequently see and discovered the Mourning Dove or Turtledove.
“Just like a white winged dove, sings a song, sounds like she’s singing, “Who! Who! Who!”
When I practice piano, I think about birds practicing their songs. They compete for the clearest and most eloquent sound. I have to memorize a song before I can play it, just like the bird. Then I practice my little song. It’s important to do my small piece in the orchestra and do it well.
Crows may caw in the day, ravens may screech at night, but I prefer the morning song. Everyone has a song.