Winter's Birds

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about birds. Rather, they’ve been quite forced upon my brain. I don’t mind though – their industrious, ambitious habits are an inspiration. My little hummingbird regulars are wintering in South America! Their tiny little bodies endured thousands of miles of flight, high and low pressure systems, rain, likely snow, wind, limited food supply – their courage and fight for survival is a lesson to behold.

A few nights ago while working in my office, I heard two owls talking to each other. A still, cold, winter’s night, the stars peppered the indigo sky; the only sound was the Whooooo of the owls in the trees. One beckoned to the other several trees away. I wondered what they could be saying to each other. Were they tracking food? Were they claiming squatting rights? Perhaps they were taking advantage of the poetic perfection of the night’s stark beauty, perpetuating the silence between them.

A few days later, this showed up in my inbox:

http://www.starrranch.org/blog/?page_id=2

Thank you Gup.

Sometime last week, I dreamt about peacocks. They belonged to me and I had ten. I felt so lucky to be the caretaker of such opulent, proud creatures. Someone gave them to me and they were in a big, outdoor cage. I couldn’t wait to let them go and admire them as they roamed my woods. I worried that the flocks of wild turkeys would annoy them. I also wondered what to feed them – would they only eat off of china? These are the things of dreams, you know.

Then I went to a dinner party and a new friend gave me this:

He has peacocks – they don’t require china. Thank you Wayne.

I suppose it’s only appropriate that a flute player should contemplate birds like this.

In the time since my peacock dream, I’ve dreamt about a beautiful blackbird with a bright yellow beak. When it opened its wings to fly, they were impossibly graceful, forming two wide, deep arcs, tapering off as if they were drawn. I watched that blackbird in my dream – studied its aching beauty. Its shiny black body with a daffodil colored beak resides in my consciousness.

The next day, this showed up in the Times.

Not exactly my blackbird but a close resemblance. I’m resisting the urge to get The Beatles involved here.

Of course, today I’m performing The Aviary from Carnival of the Animals but that’s not an unusual role for a flutist – why, just last week I was flitting about as Peter’s Sasha.