I did think about it last Tuesday morning on the drive
home. It was another cold morning; we’ve
had a very cold last three weeks. But
the morning had two important things going for it: first, it was calm after
days of strong northerly winds; and second, it was the first week of February. I pulled into the driveway and the garage,
but instead of hitting the garage door button and heading inside, I stepped out
into the drive way. I waited. Several minutes later I shrugged my shoulders
and turned to head inside. But, just then, I heard it. It was a clear, bright note
as strong as the morning sunshine. I
turned back and headed a bit towards the road so I could see to the north a bit
better. The note pierced morning again. I looked to the very top of the willow tree
in the corner of my neighbor’s yard.
There he was, his red feathers were as bright as his song.
This cardinal appeared to have the morning to himself. Usually, when the cardinals start to sing in
February it becomes a musical duel between birds scattered all around the neighborhood. I don’t know why cardinals start singing in
February; it’s much too cold for courtship.
But perhaps cardinals are unique in the avian world in preferring long
engagements. Most songbirds seem to
engage in nestbuilding very shortly after first meeting.
I have pondered in previous Embers posts whether or
not pairs of cardinals may stay together year-round. I have noticed that many times pairs of
cardinals come into the feeders together.
And, when one flies off, the other is usually sure to follow. Some research seems to proves that my
suspicions are likely true. All the more
curious then, why the males sing so early – when winter seems content on
staying around, and spring seems reluctant to begin her rounds. And, if at least some percentage of the
female cardinals are spoken for, you would think a male might be in for a
scolding at home if he is heard singing his heart out.
Perhaps many of the troubadours are younger, as-yet
unattached suitors. Or perhaps, there is
a different reason for the song. Maybe
the singers are staking claim to a territory.
Yet I recall a day last February when three cardinals were all singing their
hearts out in the same linden tree in the back yard.
Maybe the cardinal song is inspired by the lengthening of days. This week, the sunset was officially after 5:00 PM for the first time since last November.
Maybe the birdsong is not merely “for the birds”. What if the cardinal song is a simple gift
for souls that are growing weary of the dark and the cold? Are cardinals prompted by a larger force to sing
so that others take note of something beautiful, just when they need something
beautiful?
It may not be mere coincidence that the cardinals start
to sing the same week as mortals force meaning upon the shadows of groundhogs. I’ve always thought that there was some unseemly
desperation in dragging some poor groundhog from his hibernation to determine
whether of not he will cast a shadow.
Wouldn’t it be more kind to let the rodent sleep and just look for our
own shadow? I heard this week that the most
famous of them all – Punxsutawney Phil, has only been accurate about 39% of the
time over the last 100 years. Those seem like poor odds to bet your heart on.
As for me, I’ll listen for the cardinals to begin singing, even if
I’m not sure whether they sing for love, for home, for spring, for daylight, or for me.
His Peace <><
Deacon Dan
Photo by Carol Carpenter on Unsplash
Comments
Post a Comment