Last week I spent my days near the ponds, trying out different distances from the water, looking up at trees, balancing lingering with actively seeking out, hoping to bear witness to the bird life of Apopka. Monday the heat felt still, the ambiance was silent, no movement or color coming from birds could be discerned. Tuesday and Wednesday, the days I went for bike rides, I could hear multiple simultaneous songs, but I couldn’t see any of the birds – probably because I was in movement, and when I was on the go, I couldn’t afford to stop and look up as much as I would’ve liked to. I began to wonder if birds were flying away from me; I couldn’t help but try to make sense of their absence.
Thursday morning, I woke up at 6 am, even though I hadn’t reached my most needed eight hours of sleep. I made my way to the neighboring ponds and in this time, I saw two birds, one of which I’ve concluded to be a song sparrow, and another (a white one) which I still haven’t identified. The song sparrow was on a neighbor’s driveway, casually and unaffectedly walking around. The white one was on a light pole. It seemed agitated and in constant movement.
Seeing these birds lifted my spirits, but I was even more delighted when I arrived near the pond. Despite the sound of the lawnmower in action and the heat of the morning, the pond felt serene and enlivening. I could make out individual bird songs – even though I struggled associating them to a specific species. I could see (otherwise unidentified) white birds flying over the pond. I could see three sandhill cranes near the water. I could see an orchard oriole meandering around a tree and signing so beautifully and so potently I was surprised there was only one. I wondered why they were all flying in different directions and imagined all the places they have lived in and visited. I wondered whether they were talking to each other, whether they could understand each other’s songs, whether songs were their means of communications.
Perhaps it was the time of the day, but the 30 minutes I spent sitting by the pond I felt overwhelmed with a peace I had been missing all week. Quite strangely, it felt so satisfying because it felt like a peace crafted with effort, a peace filled with magic and somehow devoid of excitement, a peace that arrived after disappointment and conflict, a peace I felt I worked for but over which I ultimately never had much control.
I’m glad to hear that your week ended with you finally being able to see birds. Humans are such visual creatures and observing birds forces us to just listen because birds can be so elusive. The birds finally revealed themselves and there’s a wonderful magic to that! They teased you with their calls and then you got to see them at last. The language of birds is fascinating too. They are definitely communicating.