by Ernest Jones

I awake to the song of an American robin perched high in the maple tree just outside our bedroom window. Then, from high in the locust tree floats the lovely trill of the meadowlark.

While taking my guide dog out for his morning walk, I listen to myriad birds singing in nearby trees. Included in this melodic cacophony are the voices of the goldfinch, chickadee, song sparrow, and house wren, who, along with his mate, appears to like the bird house I set up for chickadees.

The mourning dove lifts her plaintive cry and, when she is frightened, departs in a whir of wings.

Another favorite is the red-winged blackbird. Its lovely trill can cheer anyone who takes a moment to listen. The red-winged blackbirds let me know when the seed feeder is empty, as if they know I can’t see. They also scatter seed all over the porch and ground as they pick out their favorite seeds. But soon quail and doves charge in to clean up the evidence.

Many Voices

California quail have many different voices. If I step outside while they are feeding, I hear them scatter across the lawn like blown leaves, muttering their unhappiness at my intrusion. I have told them to stay, that I’d not hurt them, but they ignore my plea.

Still later, when I cry out because of a wasp sting, the quail laugh at me.

Some bird songs are not beautiful but, in their own way, they add to the avian choir. The magpie emits more of a scream than a song, while the crow—well, what can I say about the crow?

Have you heard the Chinese pheasant call as you walk down a country road? How about the sudden explosion of voice and wing as the pheasant takes flight from almost under your feet? I think he deliberately scares passersby.

In the early morning, I hear the great horned owl in his all-wise position atop a utility pole. I think he brags for being able to twist his head nearly clear around.

One year, a pair of killdeer made their nest in the center of our potato patch. We never saw a potato bug that year. Though I have tried to convince them to nest with the potatoes again, the killdeer have not accepted my offer. Perhaps they are tired of a diet of potato bugs.

So, how many birds did you hear today? Can you identify them by their song?

Have you seen finches eating? Their favorite seed is the thistle. They must crack it, drop the hull, and eat only the tiny heart of the seed. How many seeds must this little bird eat to survive?

Now, I must admit that these feathered friends would be more helpful if they didn’t leave so much behind on the porch rail. However, they don’t listen to me on this subject either.

Look around and see the lovely birds our Savior has made for our enjoyment. Take time to hear their songs, and to remember His words: “Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin? And not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father’s will. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows” (Matthew 10:29-31).