This Month's Story

(This story originally appeared in The Wedding Guest.)

The other night as I went out to the patio to recover a book I had left out there, I heard a mockingbird sing in the dark of the night. It was a lonely sound of some strong feeling that only the bird knew. Its song went on for a while. He was still singing when I finally turned and went back into the house.

We had some visitors that stopped by late last week and stayed for the weekend.

There were two of them, flying in real low and first staying over in Lister’s Pond and then, seemingly undecided, going to the small pond just to our east. Finally they seemed to settle on the beach, sauntering for an hour or so up and down the berm just above the high water mark.

We noticed them because they were so noisy. Their back and forth flights just at rooftop height was accompanied by a social chattering of honks, with both birds speaking at once.

The two were Canada Geese.

I wondered at their size. They were smaller than the ones I had been used to seeing when I lived years ago in Maryland. I looked them up in our bird books and was surprised to learn that there are several different sizes of Canada Geese. It has to do with racial stock. Our two visitors it seems were in a mid-size variety.

These were an interesting pair. They were very busy, seemingly concerned with checking on everything in the local vicinity and discussing each item endlessly.

It turned out they were the advance party of a small group of migrating geese. We noted the arrival of two more birds the morning of the next day, then several more later on, until by Saturday, there were eight Canada Geese enjoying the beach and the two side ponds.

None of the birds seemed to believe in spending any time in quiet meditation. They were in all a noisy, gregarious, happy group and when they left Monday, Stella and I were sorry to see them go.

We get a lot of migratory birds stopping by briefly like that in early spring. We used to have ducks stop by. A lot of ducks, and these would often stay a week or more. We haven’t seen too many the last few years.

I do remember, however, that some of the ducks were sometimes rather shocking in their behavior, seemingly more interested in sex rather than migrating.

A lot of this was just several drakes strutting after a hens. But on occasion one would get lucky and the two would run in the bushes behind the house to carry on. You could almost walk up on them; they were so shameless.

Gretal, our Weimaraner at the time, tried to instill a certain amount of decorum to their actions by trying to eat them. But they ignored her and flew to the house next door and continued on as before.

Then there are the humming birds. They’re a group of fighters not lovers. Each bird seems to have seen “Top Gun” three dozen times and pictures itself in the top role. They go at each other continuously, trying to show their skills at blinding territorial fights around the five or six feeders around the house. I get tired just watching them.

I suppose it takes all kinds, but any one humming bird isn’t even big enough to make a single kind of anything else.

Last year we built a small, enclosed brick patio around the side of the house, away from the wind and beach with its noisy visitors. It took awhile to get it all finished, what with the easements applications, the cement workers, the brick suppliers and then the brickers themselves. We didn’t really get to use it very much before winter set in.

Actually, it’s still not quite finished. We have some redwood siding to replace that had been taken down during the construction, but it’s essentially done and I’ve been using it. I’ve began taking my laptop and sitting back there on occasion when the wind gets too strong on the front porch. At first I was surprised at the quiet. But then I realized it was not quiet. There are noises, but these are different from what I am used to hearing in the front of the house bordering the beach. I start to hear birds that I know are also around in front but not as noticeable.

Mockingbirds for example. Normally in front, I see these as birds completely occupied in defending their nests from predators that range from crows to squirrels. If I hear them singing, it’s a territorial warning to another mockingbird and the song is a preamble to a fight.

Now, however, I hear them singing beautiful arias that rise up and float with an almost unconscious beauty.

The other night as I went out to the patio to recover a book that I had left out there, I heard a mockingbird singing in the dark of the night. It was a lonely sound of some strong feeling that only the bird knew. Its song went on for a while.

He was still singing when I finally turned and went back into the house.

Today, I have gone back to the patio to sit and work. I hear around me the songs of spring. I hear the coo of a dove. This is a wondrous sound! Why had I not heard its inherent soft beauty before?

I find myself putting down the laptop and leaning back on the lounge. Jennie moves beside the lounge, rearranging herself into a more comfortable position. She knows that my actions mean we will be here for a while. Reclining on the brick wall, Holly our tomcat watches us for a few moments, then closes his eyes and goes to sleep.

Stella will be home in an hour or so. I might just as well stay here and wait for her. I close my eyes and join Jennie and Holly in a short nap amid the refreshing noises of a new spring.