there’s this song: ” no asken how, so asken why, you me and the birds are getten ready, getten ready….getten ready
It was sung on Via Rail train, The Canadian, by Shelly O’Brien as the we crossed the prairies.
Now, I am north on highway 400 and am staying with some friends just outside of Coldwater. Their porch overlooks a vast forest and Betty and her late husband were great birdwatchers. The bird feeders are placed in all sorts of spots, all good for viewing the birds.
Birds will give you a window if you allow them.
I have been struck by how fine-grained the world seems, now that instead of seeing a bird and thinking BIRD, I think of a particular bird; it is like semantic magic. Betty seems to have an unhurried affectionate approach to watching birds and animals that resonates with me.
It is weird though, for an activity that I feel I have a slow eye with and certainly no innate talent for, I so enjoy it.