The morning orchestra of birds singing is something I didn’t realise I missed till I got home from Paris. Then again, at 3.30 am this morning, it was something I felt I could really live without.
If I was played the audio of only the local birds singing, I could pick whether it was from outside my window at home, or my window outside my maternal grandmother’s house or my paternal grandparents’ house or my boyfriend’s house. There are a few birds common to each, but each location, even though they’re only 10-15 minutes apart from my house in different directions, each has their own orchestra of the avarian variety. And most mornings, it is very nice.
In Paris, living in Cite Universitaire, despite being a leafy area, I didn’t hear many birds at all in the mornings and often awoke to the sound of silence. On my first morning home, I realised how nice it was to wake up to the same, familiar sounds of birds singing outside my window and how something as small as the music birds make in your area, can be easily taken for granted. Even as I write this I can hear the occasional tweet from neighbourhood birds, reminding me that I’m at home.
However, as it turns to summer, the birds are starting earlier and earlier, and if you happen to wake up at around 3-3.30 when they start, it will take you hours to get back to sleep. Beautiful, but maddening.