Dawn Chorus at Airlie Gardens

Up early with words to write...

You probably think morning begins early where you live but let me tell you, the morning begins far earlier than you can imagine when you promise to accompany Ms. Wonder to experience the dawn chorus at Airlie Gardens. 

Perhaps I should explain the "dawn chorus" is a symphony performed by a collection of different bird species, joining together to welcome the dawn in early spring. Think of it as America's Got Talent and you're the judge. The male birds sing a collection of favorite love songs to impress the females.

I've got a hunch that females sing too but their contribution is overlooked by male researchers. Sounds about right, doesn't it?

Airlie Gardens is a 67-acre Eden that lies along the Cape Fear River in Wilmington, North Carolina and dates back to the eighteenth century. It's a popular destination for residents and visitors--people and birds.

Ms. Wonder explained to me the experience would be "transformative," a word that always makes me uneasy. When Dr. Coast, and every other therapist in recent memory, uses that word she usually means it's going to require a lot of hard work over an extended period of time.

Dark green a branch ascends a garden wall...

Nevertheless, I found myself fumbling for clothes in the dark, trying not to wake the sensible part of my brain that was still enjoying its REM cycle. Twenty minutes later, I was trudging through dew-soaked grass toward our selected viewing spot--the "spring garden," wondering if transformation always required this much yawning.

Ms. Wonder, always the consummate artist, provided a lyrical description of the changing light and awakening landscape.

"I love the way the world is revealed in stages," she said. "It's like a painter slowly adding color to a vast canvas."

"Yeah," I said but not in a sour way; I simply wasn't yet fully awake. "No longer night, and not yet day," I continued because once I get started, it's hard to stop. "

Silence followed. Not awkward exactly, more like embarrassed. "Can we just be quiet and enjoy the morning?" she said.

As we stood there underneath the oaks, the water of the garden ponds transformed from black mirrors to liquid silver. Mist hovered above the surface, performing its morning dance before surrendering to the sun's inevitable arrival.

Oh, no! Somebody stop me. Do you see what I mean when I say once I start, it's nearly impossible to stop. But I'll try, really I will. I'll take a few deep breaths.

As dawn's embrace begins to wane...

It was about this time that Princess Amy decided to make her move. My internal monologue cycled between grudging appreciation and righteous complaint. 

"So it's beautiful," Amy said. "But it would be just as beautiful at, say, 9 AM?" 

A cardinal's clear whistle cut through the morning air, and I thought, "Okay, that was worth hearing." 

"You would have enjoyed it more at a reasonable hour after eating pancakes," said Amy.

The debate continued and the jury in my mind remained stubbornly deadlocked on whether this early rising qualified as wisdom or madness.

And Nature's secrets grow...

That's when a memory from years ago came back to me—a great blue heron standing still as a sculpture at the edge of a lagoon. For fifteen minutes, I watched it in perfect stillness. Then, with a strike so swift it barely registered, the heron speared a fish and lifted it to the sky. It almost seemed an expression of gratitude.

Perhaps she was distracted by a shadow passing overhead. Whatever her reason for pausing, it seemed like a gesture of thankfulness, leaving me speechless. I'd come to observe nature; I hadn't expected to witness grace. 

Ms. Wonder had wandered off earlier, camera in hand, leaving me to my bird-watching and Amy's running commentary. I'd been so engrossed in the heron memory that I hadn't noticed her return until I heard her say, "Sometimes, all it takes is being in the right place at the right time." 

She was watching another heron as she spoke, and I suddenly realized that I was in the right place at the perfect time at that very moment.

Mystery of life...

Walking back to the car, now fully awake and oddly energized, I found myself reconsidering the value of my standard morning routine—the news headlines, email checks, and social media scrolling that typically launch my day. 

Nature's rhythms happen with or without human audience or approval, yet we rise early, fighting our desire to stay snug in our beds, to experience the rituals—not because they need us, but because we need them. 

As Amy finally quieted in my mind, I realized that witnessing the world wake up had, in fact, been transformative. I'd just have to avoid telling Ms. Wonder she was right until after my nap.