One of the beautiful things about summer is waking up to bird song; the trilling chorus outside my window as the rising sun paints everything rosy and gold. It’s winter now. The mornings are pretty quiet. There’s no choir of birdsong.
But if you live where songbirds migrate, their disappearance and reappearance are just part of the natural cycles. We’re always pleased when birds begin to arrive from their overwintering homes. I know I am. But what if the birds never came back? What if the birdsong stopped?