We are fortunate to live in an area with plenty of songbirds. These flying musical delights are protected by law because they are just beautiful to have around. Each morning, just before the sun rises, one bird starts to sing, followed by another, and then all of them form an amazing musical ensemble. Sadly, we live in town, so the birds can get drowned out by people waking up and driving to work, and by all the other, less appealing sounds that Mankind produces.
One of the great benefits of camping is that the locations we camp at are a little farther from the noise of humanity, and when it is time to wake up, a chorus greets our morning. I can honestly say that I look forward to these morning moments. I occasionally lie in my sleeping bag, trying to hear each individual and even hoping to hear something I had not heard before.
Birds are rather insistent on their morning sing-along. Even when it is raining, there will be a few die-hards out there stretching their lungs in the most beautiful way. It has only happened a few times that we have not heard the morning birds while camping. This includes a raging storm that likely prompts the birds to wait it out, or in areas with few trees, such as arid prairie climates. Even then, a couple of individuals are chirping away, making their presence known.
The most intense birdsong we had ever experienced was at Raccoon Creek State Park, on our Visiting a Country that Fought Against the Monarchy, but in the End Adored Queen Victoria. It was our final day in the campground. For us Canadians, it was a holiday Monday, but in the USA, it was a regular Monday. We literally were the only people in this large section of the state park. There was no distant dog barking, nor the rev of some engine, nor the constant drone of traffic. It was just the birds and us.
There was no reason to wake early and start our day. For the most part, it was just a driving day home, so we took advantage of a nice sleep-in morning. Lying in the tent, with no urgency to move, we listened to the first bird, setting the mood. A solidary bird started the show. Soon, a couple of others joined in. Quickly, the forest erupted in a stunning melody. A whippoorwill could be heard, followed by another, then another. This, as always, started before the sun woke and continued as it got brighter. I was enjoying every moment of what was to be the most vibrant and intense morning birdsong we have ever experienced.
And then there was the crow. From a distance, we heard its distinctive caw. It flew closer and cawed some more. It flew even closer, sounding as if it were perched directly above us, insisting it would become the star of the show, and cawed its heart out. The crow did not match the other birds and did sour this epic performance of nature’s amazing creativity. The crow wasn’t leaving, so it was time for us to get ready and leave.
Birds and their morning singing are a highlight of any time we are camping. I have a map of State and Provincial Parks that have campgrounds. I prefer government-run sites because I find them more spacious and private, and visiting them helps keep the parks running.
