I was awakened this morning at 3:50 by a very loud bird in the tree out my bedroom window. I think it was one bird, but it sounded like a whole flock of screeching birds, desperate to tell the world something very important. The bird talk went on until sunrise a couple of hours later. The squawks were incessant, in this pattern: three syllable, three syllable, four. They repeated every 2 to 3 seconds. What in the world is this bird trying to tell someone? I wondered during those early morning hours. Isn’t anybody listening? How is John sleeping through this?
I wondered who that bird was speaking to. I wondered if the screeches that sounded identical, repeated 100s of times, really were different in bird talk. I wondered why that bird had to repeat its phrase so many times. I wondered who was listening. I wondered if birds ever get hoarse. I wondered if that bird was really communicating, or just making noise.
Finally at about 7:00 or so, the bird flew to another tree, maybe over in the playground, and the cries were muted a bit. I drifted off to sleep. When I woke, tired, this morning, I considered that bird and some people I know. They are not so very different, I thought.