Goldfinches, scarlet tanager, great-crested flycatcher, catbird, towhee… no composer, no conductor. All music needs is a listener.
catbird
May 3, 2021
Light rain. The catbird lands on a branch with nesting material in his beak, which all falls out when he goes to sing.
May 1, 2021
Crystal clear. A blue-headed vireo ventures into the yard and the catbird immediately interrupts, taking his song and turning it inside-out.
April 28, 2021
Hazy sun. The first catbird pops out of a barberry bush, improvising wildly. An ant traverses my collar.
June 20, 2020
Cloudy and damp. The catbird is touring his latest improvisations all around the yard. I’m hearing strong towhee and wren influences.
June 9, 2020
Silver-spotted skippers chase over dame’s-rocket. A catbird balancing on a dead weed stalk plucks a green bug from a blade of grass.
May 8, 2020
Cold rain getting harder. The Carolina wren’s “tea kettle” call never seemed more appropriate. The catbird lisps and buzzes like a warbler.
May 6, 2020
Rain. A gray catbird on the gray road pecking at things that are not gray. In the trees above, a blue-headed vireo sings possession.
May 3, 2020
Two catbirds are carrying dead grass into a barberry bush. A grackle emerges from a hole in the yard with his yellow thief’s eye.
May 1, 2020
Out too late to hear the wood thrush, I’m stuck with a catbird’s Muzak version. The bridal wreath’s skinny bloom-fingers shake in the wind.
April 29, 2020
The catbird is back. After mewing loudly several times, he disappears into a barberry bush and starts going through his songs sotto voce.
April 28, 2019
The catbird is back, improvising lines of its spring-long solo in a cold drizzle. The edge of the woods is an impressionist’s soft blur.
September 23, 2018
Off to the northeast, a thin band of clear sky for the dawn to tint. A squirrel drops a walnut from the treetops. The catbird starts to mew.
May 6, 2018
The all-night rain has eased into drizzle. A drenched squirrel plods through the yard. A catbird appears on a branch and sings half a note.