The sound of summer

At our last home, we had western meadowlarks everywhere. They were difficult birds to photograph. Because their voice carried a long distance, invariably they were so far away that a photograph showed, at best, a tiny dot. But I loved them. To me, their sweet song was the sound of summer. (How's that for alliteration?) In fact, I consider the song of a meadowlark one of the prettiest bird calls in nature.

Meadowlarks are birds of the grasslands. Apparently this preference is because trees harbor potential predators (hawks), whereas the open fields are safer because birds of prey are easier to spot. At any rate, I absolutely stinkin' love meadowlarks.

So it was with much disappointment to discover, for whatever reason, that meadowlarks don't reside in our current area. It doesn't make much sense, since we have plenty of grassland. Why weren't they here? No idea.

Last summer, once or twice, I heard a meadowlark call, but nothing with the frequency to indicate the bird I heard was anything but an outlier.

But this year ... this year we have meadowlarks! All over the place. Their call is now almost as frequent as at our last home. Once again it's the sound of summer.

A few days ago, a bird's song was so loud that I knew it was close by. I stepped out on our back deck and saw a male perched at the very top of a pine tree, singing his heart out.

I sincerely hope these birds are here to stay.