#46 - The Song of the Sparrow
Through all of history, the singing of birds has epitomized peace and tranquility and the reassurance that all is right with the world. Tirelessly broadcasting their messages of love, happiness and freedom, birds fill our ears with endless renditions of their pretty songs, familiar and recognizable, species by species, but wonderfully varied too. It is rare indeed that my reaction is anything less than delight.
To in no way diminish my appreciation of year-round natives, there is no denying most of us welcome back the thrushes and warblers and the rest of our returning spring migrators with an eager and attentive ear. And it is not at all unusual, when conversing with a devoted bird-watcher, to be hushed in mid-sentence in order that we may give our attention to the first chipping of tree swallows, or the "drink your tea" of a rufous-sided towhee. The effect on me, at times, is almost inebriating. Each morning and evening, I indulge in long, appreciative stretches of listening. No matter how long I linger, it never seems long enough; in our house it is not a good idea to ignore the call to breakfast or supper.
In light of all this, it is no surprise to me that National Public Radio has met with such overwhelmingly popular response to their 7 a.m. broadcast of wild bird songs. My son, Elijah, and I listen to it every morning as we sit in the car at the end of our road waiting for his school bus. No matter how frigid the January morning or how gloomy the weather, it is always a pleasant few minutes.
It’s often occurred to me that my favorite television news show could capitalize on this example set by NPR, embellishing their broadcast with the added dimension of an artful film showing a peaceful woodland scene awash in the melodious spell of song arising from the trembling throat of a hermit thrush or a white-throated sparrow, for example. The news can certainly use some lightning up. Like the sobering blue orb of Earth, as seen from the Moon, the singing of birds might go a long way toward showing our world from a happier perspective. A nightly tincture of that on the news could do wonders for millions.
I’ve been spurred to this line of thought by something that has struck me time and time again, watching the evening news. No matter where the story of violence and strife is coming from, it seems, the serious correspondent describes the scene behind him, talking above the sirens and the explosions and the crying, yet never paying notice to what I often hear in the background, the cheerful, reassuring notes of house sparrows (the most widely distributed song bird in the world) carrying on as usual. In spite of it all, these little cosmopolitans maintain a semblance of normalcy wherever they are, letting me know that the news is not all bad.
Perhaps eternal bliss is not in the cards for humankind, and I suppose I recognize this is true for the rest of creature-kind as well, but at least the feathered members of our kingdom have demonstrated their capacity for harmonious living far better than have we. The irony is that while our species insists on warring and steadfastly continues to ignore the simplest lessons in life, it is we, and only we, who can truly absorb and comprehend the beauty in song, . . . and even more importantly, how it can relate to the pursuit of happiness.
Why is that? My only answer is another question: Can there ever be enough singing?