News
ENLARGE
Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column enchanted by the day-to-day noises of Summit County’s resident wildlife.
This summer, a large family of charcoal and white swifts built an elaborately engineered condominium under the eaves of our house — right above the bedroom window. And judging from the sounds emanating from the tubular nest at all hours, Mommy and Daddy Swift certainly had no need for fertility drugs.
There seemed to be dozens of the little peepers.
For most of the summer, they awakened at about 4 a.m., and anticipated the sunrise with their little bird voices. Not being fluent, or even conversant, in swift-speak, we could only imagine what they were saying.
We assumed their conversation was generally along the lines of, “What’s for breakfast? I’m hungry, I’m hungry,” but that’s only a guess based on our own experience. For all we actually know, the nestlings could’ve been asking questions such as, “ Can reality be worthwhile?” or “Is the theatre really dead?” Or maybe they were exhorting each other with encouraging words to face the new day, like “Git-R-Done!”
In any case, their early-morning cacophony woke us up every day and drove our cat crazy. After the sun came up, the backyard airspace would become jammed with wheeling, diving, swooping, and chirping. The spectacle might have frustrated the cat, but it also gave her hours of viewing pleasure. And we would have to agree that watching an extended family of feathered virtuoso avians eat all the flying neighborhood bugs beats the heck out of sitting on the couch in front of “The Simpsons” reruns.
Now that the aspens are turning, most of the birds have moved on. The babies learned how to fly and are out catching their own bugs now. The nest is empty — at least for the season.
While we miss our early wake-up calls, we find some solace in the fact that despite our harsh winters, some of the bird world’s most magnificent denizens call Summit County home all year round.
We admit we’ve always been partial to the Corvidae family — ravens, crows, magpies, and jays — and, for us, the High Country is a kind of bird heaven.
Whether it’s the croak of a raven perched high above us while we’re on a particularly exhausting trail run, or the raucous conversation of blackbirds that congregate around the CMC building in Breckenridge, we always feel strangely soothed and/or encouraged by the “birdsong” of the corvids.
It’s Wednesday, and we’re praticing our chickadee-adee-adee call. Send us your favorite avian noises to summitup@summitdaily.com. Photos and audio files, too!
This summer, a large family of charcoal and white swifts built an elaborately engineered condominium under the eaves of our house — right above the bedroom window. And judging from the sounds emanating from the tubular nest at all hours, Mommy and Daddy Swift certainly had no need for fertility drugs.
There seemed to be dozens of the little peepers.
For most of the summer, they awakened at about 4 a.m., and anticipated the sunrise with their little bird voices. Not being fluent, or even conversant, in swift-speak, we could only imagine what they were saying.
We assumed their conversation was generally along the lines of, “What’s for breakfast? I’m hungry, I’m hungry,” but that’s only a guess based on our own experience. For all we actually know, the nestlings could’ve been asking questions such as, “ Can reality be worthwhile?” or “Is the theatre really dead?” Or maybe they were exhorting each other with encouraging words to face the new day, like “Git-R-Done!”
In any case, their early-morning cacophony woke us up every day and drove our cat crazy. After the sun came up, the backyard airspace would become jammed with wheeling, diving, swooping, and chirping. The spectacle might have frustrated the cat, but it also gave her hours of viewing pleasure. And we would have to agree that watching an extended family of feathered virtuoso avians eat all the flying neighborhood bugs beats the heck out of sitting on the couch in front of “The Simpsons” reruns.
Now that the aspens are turning, most of the birds have moved on. The babies learned how to fly and are out catching their own bugs now. The nest is empty — at least for the season.
While we miss our early wake-up calls, we find some solace in the fact that despite our harsh winters, some of the bird world’s most magnificent denizens call Summit County home all year round.
We admit we’ve always been partial to the Corvidae family — ravens, crows, magpies, and jays — and, for us, the High Country is a kind of bird heaven.
Whether it’s the croak of a raven perched high above us while we’re on a particularly exhausting trail run, or the raucous conversation of blackbirds that congregate around the CMC building in Breckenridge, we always feel strangely soothed and/or encouraged by the “birdsong” of the corvids.
It’s Wednesday, and we’re praticing our chickadee-adee-adee call. Send us your favorite avian noises to summitup@summitdaily.com. Photos and audio files, too!
