Because we live in western North Carolina, the windows are usually open (except for winter, of course). So when Spring arrived last year, the windows were wide open, and we got to hear the singing of all the amazing birds living in the woods around our house. One morning, while marveling at the beauty of spring in western North Carolina, we heard a bird call. It was unlike anything we’d heard before. His song consisted of eight notes: onetwothree, pause, fourfive, pause sixseveneight. He sang in the morning. He sang in the evening. It was really cool.
For three weeks.
By week four, we’d grown a bit weary of Theodore/Teddy (anyone that loud needed a name). We prayed he’d find a girlfriend, hoping that would quiet him down, because every morning around 5:45 or so, he’d start. Who-who-who…who-who…who-who-who. We started studying bird books, trying to figure out what kind of bird he was and glean some info as to when he’d go away. We studied in vain, largely because we were too distracted by the constant who-whooing going on outside the window.
Finally, I called my friend Bryce, who knows all things in the animal world, and told him what was going on. I described the song and he announced, “You’ve got a wood thrush. Great song, yes? Bit annoying after a while. He’ll be gone by fall.”
We resigned ourselves to the fact we were to be early risers that summer.
Then one day we were speaking to our neighbor Jim. It was nice to talk to him. He’d really not been to see us much since we first met and I told him Will was a great cook. “What’s he cook?”, he asked. “Meth,” I jokingly responded. His smile froze and he mumbled something about having to get home. Anyway, as we stood that day, yapping over the fence, Will mentioned we had a wood thrush. “Yes,” Jim, jumped right in. “We hear him. Isn’t he…” And I burst in with “annoying as hell!!” And again, his smile froze and he mumbled something about having to get home. (Apparently some people enjoy Teddy’s repetitive song. Go figure.)
<sigh>
So, summer passed. And one day in late August, I was sitting at the kitchen table and I saw Daisy come inside and slink down the hallway. I followed her. She was in our bedroom, laying down next to what I thought was a small brown log…but in fact turned out to be…Teddy. Headless. Daisy seemed a bit mortified by the whole thing. I was of course, horrified. When Will got home, I told him what had happened and he remarked, “Well, I guess she was sick of him, too.”
In truth, we were pretty bummed by Teddy’s demise.
So spring has come around again.
And just the other day, we heard, “Who-who-who…who-who…who-who-who.”
It seems that Teddy’s relentless singing last year was not all for naught, as he apparently caught the ear of Theodora, who gifted him with an heir.
It was nice to hear him sing.
Of course, it’s only been a week.
Summer promises to be long.
Until next time, cheers.
