I often hear a bird before I see it. It may be a song, a call, or a desperate attempt at mating. Whatever the motivation behind the sound the result is the grasp of my attention.
The day is beautiful, mild, and extremely sunny. The automobiles are out in droves. The dallying of bodies to and from on-goings is well underway. The human species is progressing in the afternoon of a May day.
Above, below, and in every other direction, the bird species endures. From my aluminum chair, I can identify about a half-dozen types. From turkey buzzards to oven birds they are all on a mission. Some have nests. I see males and females taking turns watching their nest while the other forages for bugs, worms, anything edible for their hatchlings. The buzzards soar above, too high to cast shadows on the asphalt below but low enough to bring chills down the spine of anything close to the end. Still, others do not have a reason to nest–yet. A beautiful male cardinal calls from a limb nearby. She hears but does not concede to him. She requires more effort than a song.
As they soar over Fords and Hondas, the birds seem oblivious to the lack of wilderness around them. They have adapted. They pay attention to basic survival skills; stay clear of larger objects, work hard to provide for your kind, and stay true to your instincts. Humans progress. Birds endure.
Anthony Sadler 