The Knitting Journeyman

Gathering Up One Thread At A Time As I Weave This Web Of Mine.....

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Four O'Clock In The Morning

            I woke up at four in the morning today.  I had drunk way too many liquids too close to bedtime…and I had to get up.  But, I lay there in bed at four am thinking, I can wait to go to the bathroom.  I heard flocks of birds…not singing…oh no…I listen to these guys all the time.  They are twittering and jittering and more than liking yelling and screaming at one another.  You flew too close to my branch.  Yeah, well, you ate that bug I was going to eat.  Oh yeah?  What are you going to do about it.
            Sparrows.  Wrens.  Finches.  The whole lot of them.  I watch ‘em and I listen to ‘em all day long.  For some reason, at four this morning, they were on fire w the verbiage.
            I actually lay, safe and warm in my lover’s arms, his breath cool on the nape of my neck, thinking, one of these days I am going to figure out what type of bird all these loudmouths are—although I was in a much happier space then and thinking in a more pleasant manner.  It did dawn on me, very quickly, that I did know what kind they were.  Mostly sparrows and finches.  With my bonded pairs of cardinals chirping here and there to add some flavor to the rest of the cacophony.  I felt a bit proud of myself for recognizing the little buggers.
            Funny how around six, though, the cacophony …stopped for the most parts.  The cardinals are still around.  Apparently, the doves wake up when the light starts to shine.  But the mass of tiny bird bickering…not a whisper.  As I sit here at 7:30 listening, now that the grackles and the ravens are up and at them, I hear, farther away, up the road, the noise of the bird pack (yes, I am aware it should be called a pack—but this is a group of noisy little punks—so—it’s a pack, really)…it seems that once it starts to get close to R’s alarm clock going off at 6:30…those little noisy winged snotheads…have other places to be.
            Basically, they came to be annoying to me personally at 4a—which they do fairly frequently…I usually listen a minute before rolling back into R’s arms and falling back to sleep, if I bother to hear them at all.  Selective hearing can be a wonderful thing some days.  This morning, they knew I couldn’t sleep…they knew I would listen.  The buggers.
            It was fun though.  And, hey, I got up.  So it wasn’t a completely wasted effort.  Believe it or not, I also liked all the noise too.  Even though I recognized the bickering, it was still pretty to hear.