Mr. J perched upon the old yew tree watching as Mr. and Mrs. C hurriedly rebuilt their nest. Last week’s blizzard decimated the old homestead. They picked up the nice twigs blown away by the gusting wind and tore new ones off the cottonwood tree.
“They don’t use enough dried grass. That’s what binds the twigs together.”
“Oh Jay, mind your manners.” Mrs. J hummed as she picked at her feathers.
A pack of chattering sparrows flew by. The brood from last fall were causing trouble again.
“We should ban the sparrows from the neighborhood. We could do it!” Jay’s head turned nearly all the way around as the sparrow teens circled the yew tree. None of the flock noticed the Jay family silently observing them.
Robin landed in the bird bath. Ice chunks remained, but the bird fluttered about, water flying everywhere.
“Look at that silly Robin. It should know better.” He looked up. “Looks like another storm coming. His down feathers could freeze.”
“Hush now. You complain too much. Come… the eggs will be arriving soon. We have much work to do.” Mrs. J shot her husband a coquettish look and flew away.
Jay paused. “Eggs? Already?” He looked at the sky again. “Maybe that storm won’t hit us. I wonder if we’ll have all boys again—or girls? Mrs. wanted to teach a girl how to properly nest. March will be her name… or Tulip. No, I’ll let Mrs. name the chick.”
Jay straightened up, flapped his wings, and then flew away singing a one a pleasant tune.
***
Mrs. C glared at Jay as he few by. “What is he all happy about? Nothing has gone right this day.” She dropped a twig and fluttered down to get it.
“Darling, don’t be mad. It isn’t every day Jay sings a happy tune.” He looked up. The grey clouds were heading south and blue skies were coming in. “He must think the storm isn’t coming. You know he’s the best at telling the weather.”
Mrs. C stopped. “You’re right, maybe things are looking up.”
Mrs. C dropped the twig and sang a song. “Birdie, birdie… birdie”
Mr. C joined in.
***
“Penelope, did you see that? First the blue jay softened his squawk. Then a host of sparrows circled the area with loud chatter, and now the cardinals are singing their familiar song. It’s spring. The birds are each singing their unique songs. I shall give it a try. Ahem…
What I hear is nice to my ears—but if you don’t know the tune, let me tell you in plain English:
Queedle, queedle queedle.
Birdie, birdie, birdie.
Chitter, chitter, tatter.
It’s a beautiful spring day.
Be happy. Sing your song.
Happiness is contagious.
Sing away birdie, birdie, birdie.
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