Summer Mornings

by Nancy Rosenberg
Summer 2002

There is something special about summer mornings just before dawn. Everything is very silent and still, the air very soft. Even the mist is still asleep, sprawled out over the fields and snuggled in the hollows.

When I go out this early, I awaken the domestic birds before the wild birds have begun their day. Isis, my rescue Egyptian* goose, starts to quack (yes, a goose who quacks) when she hears me open the door. Faintly, from the chicken coop, I can hear the rooster crow his first er-er-ERRRR-er of the morning (roosters' vocalizations are generally four syllables). In old tales, they say that roosters crow to make the sun rise. They certainly are arrogant little fellows.

The wet vegetation swishes against my boots, but other than that, everything is still very quiet. My two early risers have temporarily quieted down. It is still dark, and I make my way by the last light of the moon and stars.

The sky begins to lighten, almost imperceptibly. If I listen very carefully, I can hear the first bird call out in the woods. Then another, and another. Soon more and more birds join in and by the time I'm almost home, it is rush hour in the vicinity of the bird feeder. As the birds' chorus reaches a crescendo, it almost seems as though the sun rises
completely above the horizon. As I make my way back to the house, I rejoice in another glorious summer day.

*Egyptian geese: http://www.cyborganic.com/People/feathersite/Poultry/NDG/BRKEgyptian.html

Copyright 2002 Nancy Rosenberg