Bad Morning, Good Birds

I try to start each day with a little birding from the deck, or from the tower, if weather, time, and ambient motivation permit it. It's the nicest part of most mornings, and this autumn, which has been incredibly birdy here at Indigo Hill.

This morning I awoke in a funk--"A case of the Mondays" as that obnoxious waiter from Office Space would say. I won't bore you with the details. I'll just trust that you know what I mean: a crummy night's sleep, loads and piles of stuff waiting to be done, and the realization that no amount of coffee can change your channel.

So I went out on the deck and, Tarzanlike, summoned my bird friends to help me (this is how I was given the name Bill of the Birds).

Here's who showed up:

A lemony-autumn scarlet tanager.

A Cape May showing his limeade-colored butt and a tiny smear of his breeding-plumage 'make-up' just behind the ear.

And the first swamp sparrow of the fall. He seemed the most concerned and hung around until I was (mostly) all better.

Where would we be without our bird friends? That respected (and lamented) post-modern philosopher, Chris Farley, would say: "Living in a bus, down by the river, eating government-surplus cheese."

Seriously, though, birds and nature are a balm for the soul, even for something as seemingly trivial as a case of the Mondays. Don't you concur wholeheartedly?