Nervous Birds!

 

When I look at the birds, I feel sorry for them. Outside in the cold, they sit on barren trees, exposed to the elements, in what folks in California describe as cold weather. 

In ancient times, way before they had fast-talking meteorologists, there were natural ways to figure out upcoming changes in the weather. I don’t mean fast-talking as a slur, but here, during Golden State winters, we have a lot going on.  Periodically, I even worry the forecasters need to take a breath, lest they keel over on camera.

Arms gesticulating in front of a giant map, they inhale and explain how rain is swooping in from the north, while heat is coming in from the south. There’s a dangerous current blowing in from the east, snow in the mountains with light precipitation in the valleys, a heat wave in the desert, and hazardous rip currents at the beach, with an onshore flow that will bring coastal fog to low-lying communities.

Oh, my goodness, it all sounds so exciting, even my heart begins to race! (It doesn’t take much during this stay at home order and pandemic.)

As a viewer, we try deciphering the diagrams pertaining to our area, but somehow, the predictions rarely match reality.  Maybe we live in a micro-climate? While the doppler radar can foresee our future, we scratch our heads wondering where our home fits into the analytical scheme of things. Still, we’re a sucker for entertainment so we keep watching the weather report.

But outside, there’s something different going on. “Relax,” the birds outside my window seem to chirp. “You have a home— so stop complaining—stay inside. Sure, it’s cold—it’s winter—duh. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re busy. We need to build a nest as soon as possible. I need a twig. I need to call my friends. How am I supposed to raise a family? I need to sing to warn the others that bad weather is coming, and I need to find food to sustain me when it’s cold.”

Every night at 5pm, hundreds of crows fly overhead.

Okay, I see their point. Just like weatherpersons speaking faster in winter, they fly and flit with a greater urgency. Time is of the essence. Based on what I see, it’s going to rain tomorrow.