The last days of October. The sky in the north looks wintery today but the sun is out and suddenly I realize the meadowlark is back from springtime, sitting in a tree instead of the top of a pole, singing gloriously for a few more temperate days.
My book describes the western meadowlark’s song as a “rich, flutelike jumble of gurgling notes” and says this bird wasn’t recognized as different from the eastern meadowlark until 1844 when Audubon named them neglecta because they’d been overlooked so long. They are so welcome at my house, never neglecta. My heart is full when I hear them sing.