It seems the neighbourhood song sparrows have conferred, and decided I’m benign, if not beneficial. This status comes with certain perks: permission to approach, extra opportunities for photography, and once in a while, a delightful serenade. I was tired, today, so I abandoned my morning walk in favour of sitting on the fence, watching the world go by. I saw starlings, great numbers of them, and song sparrows — too many to count. I saw gulls, crows, and a Canada goose. I saw chickadees and hummingbirds, and I heard that elusive wee bush-dwelling bugger, whatever he may be. I also saw legions of the less-lazy (human variety), out on their morning walks (and possibly judging me for blowing off mine; ha, ha). A little later, some old man asked if I needed directions, as I meandered aimlessly through the gardens. Mother always says I should walk like I know where I’m going; seems she’s got a point. But how do I walk like I know where I’m going, when I’m not going anywhere? Yeaaaaaah — answer that, Mother!
Anyway, as I sat on the fence, swinging my feet, a song sparrow popped up from the greenery, and began to sing. It sang enthusiastically, and at length: nearly ten minutes, by the clock on my iPod. I think the concert would’ve carried on indefinitely, had not a jogger arrived, stamping with heavy stride, and a lot of phoo! phoo! phoo! You’d’ve thought a train was coming!
On and on went his song.
These little chirpy birds are always entertaining, even if they’re nothing new.
