The Western Meadowlark

You may see one before you hear one. As winter's icy grasp loosens, a lone bird is spotted along a dusty road. Nothing out of the ordinary except for a quick flash of his brilliant yellow breast.

The Meadowlarks arrive to scout for a nest long before they begin what they are most noted for, their song. Perched high on the neighbor's rooftop, a little one sings to his mate. Alone in my garden, early in the day, the whole earth seems to erupt in a cacophonous symphony of meadowlarks busily singing away as if the sky were their stage.