birdsong

There seems to be a pair of western meadowlarks in the east part of the pasture.  I see them on the electric wire overhead or on a pasture fence post singing their beautiful flute like eleven or twelve note song.  It ascends for two notes followed by a third note almost swallowed or expressed on a drawn breath, and then descending for another six or seven notes.  It is an absolutely distinctive prairie sound that has been so long absent here.  It was simply the song of my youth sixty years ago surrounding me as I tramped these fields seeing, hearing and tasting the world.

Now they are back, a coda to my life and, I hope, a blessing to my grandchildren. They are a present sign that some of the farming things we are doing now, emphasizing perennial plants and producing animals on the land as much as possible, are moves in the right direction.