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.