We build homes, and sing along

It’s the most Spring it’s ever been. The birds are filling their mouths with twigs and hauling them to nearby bushes where they’ll weave them into nests. They’ve identified the most perfect branch wedge, one that’ll be sturdy to the winds and rains that are likely to come, and out of reach to predators — those who don’t take the environment into account don’t tend to stay with us. Each bush contains camaraderie through chirped songs and shared experience, and a concern for the snake that may wiggle up its trunk.

There’s also a house being constructed right behind mine. Many days this week, I’ve awoken to the sound of wooden boards being dropped into position, nail guns securing them into place. The builders sing along to tunes playing from their truck’s stereo, and shout instructions back and forth as they work together to craft the shelter that’ll be used by many groups of people over the decades to come.

We often let the modern human dance take up much of our environment’s sonic foreground, and only when we return to stillness does center stage return to the birds. Nonetheless, in this Spring moment, it all just sounds like Nature building homes and singing along.