It is still and dark this misty morn. The wet damp brushes my cheeks as I head for the wood shed. It is cool, low 40's, but not frigid as in winter days past. As I push my cowboy hat down on my head and turn up my collar, I am encouraged that the day will be brighter eventually. Across the eastern sky there is just the faintest light of a new days dawn. The weather man says it will clear today, but it is the music of the birds carried in the mist that lifts my spirits above the weight of chill and damp.
The call of the night birds wakes the feathery musicians of the day time, and in the length of time it takes me to gather an armload wood and head for the shop, the air becomes filled with the chorus of optmisitic whistling and chirping. The mocking birds' all night vocals are joined now by thrushes and warblers. Even the blackbirds in the pines have been coaxed into singing their beautiful offering. I know soon the redbirds will boast of their "pretty, prety, pretty," appearance as well.
After I build the woodstove fire, I head back out to find that there is just enough light to encourage the robins to join the choir too. It is a wonderful peaceful blend of feathery instruments that annouces that all is well at The Chicken Ranch on this late winters morn.
I stand for a minute and take in this avian praise for Gods gift of a new day. I say a prayer myself. I offer thanksgiving for this day, for nature, and for my hearing that allows me to soak up this daybreak concert from the Creators sky watchers. As the sun lights streaks ribbons of orange across the horizon, I can make out the tree where some of the singers are roosting, and I begin to see them shudder, shake and move from branch to branch.
The day is breaking. The sun heralds another day of life. And the birds have done their very best to sing me into the morning, ready for whatever this new day brings.
