It began about two years ago, when I had a longer commute. I listened to an audio book (Prodigal Summer
In June of the following year, I bought a house in Connecticut. After a hard first day’s work, I was resting on the back deck with a Sammy A and a smoke. I heard that very same bird sound. Curiosity piqued, I did a search. Guess I didn’t realize how difficult it would be to Google on a sound. I found a few pages with multitudes of listings of bird calls in sound files. You would think that alphabetized listings would be a convenience. Not when the bird you’re looking for turns out to be a wood thrush.
Note to Google: Sure wish I could search on a sound. Do you have any idea how long it took me to find out what kind of bird was singing in my back yard?
Wood thrushes arrive in this area in the spring and depart in late July/early August. I sadly found that out one day after I realized I hadn’t heard one in a couple of days.
I will never forget the day they came back this year. I was getting out of my car and heard that beautiful melody. I literally did a little dance. I made a point of appreciating them this time, sitting in the yard like I was tuning into a show. I was even lucky enough to see one.
They’ve been gone a few weeks now, and I miss them. I wish they’d let you know when it was the last song.
So, this is somewhat sappier than my usual political rants. I probably would have been embarrassed to admit I was pining for a wood thrush, until I read this article by Barbara Crafton.