The first sign of spring for most people in America is Robin Red Breast. Hearing his little tweets and songs make one feel the cold and darkness of winter is past and one can look forward to a warm spring and fun summer.
In my area of Beverly Hills one receives no such hope for the birth of the coming seasons. I’m not quite sure why it’s the case but it’s rare I’ve been hearing birds singing at all. Yes, I know you all think I’m going deaf.
However, that is not the case for while watching the Masters Tournament at Augusta the other day, I was taken by how vibrant the birds’ songs were when everyone quieted down to let the golfers take a shot. Yes, I heard the birds chirping and cheering on their favorite golfers loud and clear.
Even with a preponderance of trees everywhere in Beverly Hills it seems that the bird population chooses to remain closed mouth and simply exist on the down low. Why?
I of course have no scientific reasons to offer for this occurrence, but of course I have some suspicions about why the little winged and usually vocal creatures choose silence in this high-profile town.
First, I’d have to guess it is a result of their inability to sing for long periods of time and ingest the pollution. After a few coughs I’d imagine most would simply give up and stay silent.
Second it might be the fact they haven’t been able to secure an agent and it is for this reason they choose not to use their talents without any compensation. A bird deserves a worm or two for their efforts. And I assure you Beverly Hills is crawling with them. Worms I mean.
Third is the fact that perhaps because so few birds choose to sing, there is no peer pressure to do so. I mean if everyone is doing it than the other birds might feel left out by not joining in. It seems quiet breeds quiet and the lack of tweeting is not such a surprise after all.
Fourth I believe it’s possible the bird population here may be the most depressed in America. I only say this because if the vibe all around them is human beings walking around like zombies touting positive thinking and then hurrying off to their therapist, it could contribute to the negative, insecure vibes the birds are feeling.
Fifth may be that it’s difficult to be heard above the sirens horns honking and yelling obscenities out car windows one witnesses each day. This is not lost on the birds. It’s possible at one point they sought to sing but couldn’t raise their voices above the craziness going on below.
Sixth, maybe like so many others in this state most of the birds have left for Florida because it’s far too expensive to live here. Perhaps all the craziness entailed living in this insane asylum with palm trees has finally caused them to reach their breaking point. Then of course squatters may have inhabited their nests when they returned and they’re all in court trying to get their little homes back. Or could it be they are simply spending the day shopping?
As someone who always loved hearing birds sing, I find it a bit depressing to face the silence.
There was once a book by Rachel Carson called Silent Spring in which she warned of impending environmental issues.
Could we have reached the point that the birds are thus affected?
I don’t think so because my friends in Michigan claim there is a great deal of happy twilling from the birds there right now. And I do miss that.
So I suppose we must return to California. I can only speak for Beverly Hills, but I must say it is a quiet Spring around here.
Beverly Hills birds although we received an abundance of rain this year seem as yet unsatisfied with the bounty nature provided.
Everyone but me it seems held the attitude there was too much rain.
I however disagree wholeheartedly. Coming from Michigan where Spring and summer sported the colors of OZ with vibrant greens and colorful flowers everywhere, it has been a culture shock for me to see the brownish hue of the trees here.
The little bit of water they usually receive is not nearly enough to serve up lush gorgeous hues, but instead brownish dry looking semi green colors.
This year however after all the rain I’m finally seeing true rich, dark leaves brimming with life and vibrancy.
So I’ll side with nature on this issue and too bad for those who were inconvenienced by the rain.
I’ve tried calling to the birds and explaining my desire to hear their songs, but only a few even responded to my pleas.
It just doesn’t seem right to be sitting outdoors and hear nothing but cars and sirens without the melodic tweet of a nearby bird.
If I am disappointed, and perhaps even making too much of the lack of music available from our feathered friends, please forgive me. I imagine you could get an app for your phone of birdsongs. Not the same. Like buying a candle to get your favorite scent and realize they all smell like cheap perfume.
Living in Michigan we were blessed with four seasons. And each one was highly anticipated.
Still after a hard winter, and it seems they were colder and harder when I was a child, we eagerly awaited spring.
The end of cold snowy days and no more dark gloomy overcast mornings. Now one could look forward to sunshine, tulips and of course robins and their friends singing a chorus of beautiful melodies. Their songs announced that yes, once again Spring has come and the beauty of color and light reappears. They were not only the bearer of songs, but proof of rebirth, new hope and life continuing after winter’s darkness.
So now when I do occasionally hear that courageous little song bird here in Beverly Hills, chirping its little heart out to announce, “Hey everyone it’s Spring,” I stop, listen and hold their song inside my heart until I am once again blessed to hear another.
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