Nightsongs

They've been at it for about six weeks now. They never did it before. We don't know how long it's going to last. It starts in the dead of night. It lasts for about 45 minutes. There's more than one doing it. You can tell by their voices. Some warble. Some chirp. Some whistle. They're birds and for some odd reason they're awake.

The neighborhood is full of birdsounds during the day. I've sat on the porch and listened to their songs. There are love songs, mocking songs, and odes to worms and bugs. There are songs for the bees and songs of the trees, and songs that make fun of me. They sometimes call their flockmates, who are keeping vigil down the block. If all is well the caller stays put, if not the caller takes flight.

At night, the chirping is localized; the epicenter of chirpdom is in the backyard. I have my theories as to why:
1. Local cats are prowling the backfences and the birds have posted sentries to hector and annoy the cats away.
2. The suburbanization of the desert has reduced habitat and led to overcrowding in the available habitat. Perhaps a grackle is snoring and bothers the wren who doesn't care for the sparrow who is nesting with her young?
3. I am being serenaded for my gardening acumen.

For 45 minutes in the dead of night, in the wee hours of the morning, a handful of birds are up and chirping. Then, just as mysteriously as it began, it's finished. The neighborhood is silent. There's no noise until the first hints of dawn appear in the east. Then, the cantor bird, the bird meuzzin flys to the tip of the songtree and calls all life awake. This song is loud, authoritative, and soon his song is answered by a bird down the block. In time nature's chorus has assembled and the songs of life reignite another day.

One of these nights, I am going to drag myself out there to listen and look for what's going on. More about this then.