So now that the weather is warmer, I have to leave my very large sliding glass window open at night. It is not nearly hot enough for the air conditioner, which I can't stand anyway. But, some fresh air flow is needed and so I leave it open about 6 or 7 inches.
We live on a cliff, essentially, overlooking a large park. This park has a lovely little stream, and in the spring and summer, I am serenaded to sleep by the sounds of dozens of frogs who I am assuming live along the stream. The chirping of the frogs is particularly soothing and peaceful in a quintessentially froggy sort of way, and usually I fall gently asleep.
Then the next thing I hear is
This is usually about 530am, and this particular bird begins its extremely loud sun salutation without fail every morning. Typed words on a page cannot possibly convey the loud, piercing quality of the sound this bird makes. It repeats its call exactly the same way- one long BWRRRRRRR and four shorter ones. Exactly five seconds between each refrain. I know because I have laid there, silently cursing, and counted them more times than I'd like to say.
There is absolutely nothing lulling or soothing about this particular animal sound. Now, before I get any ornithologist hate mail, I usually really like birds. I mean, I am allowing four doves to poop all over my patio because I hate to get rid of their poor "starter home" nest that they have outgrown. That's how much fondness I normally have for our feathered friends.
So, I blearily get up to close the door, although I can still hear when the door is closed. Nothing so simple as a closed door can keep the shrillness from being heard. I always think, doesn't this bird need to eat? Why can't it shut up and go find some food like a normal bird? Damn bird.
Sometimes I try to peer out in the semi-darkness, thinking to perhaps throw a rock at whatever tree it is in. Not to kill it, just to scare the bejesus out of it. But, in my view I have about 40 trees, only a few of them accessible by rock, despite my good arm. I have never yet been able to discern which tree that bird lives in.
Then I am forced to turn the radio on for white noise, being completely at the mercy of the classical music station. If they have some opera on, suffice to say it is going to be a while until I fall back asleep. Ditto for anything piannissimo or crescendo. Something nice and even, with lots of violins, tends to do the trick.
Ok, so maybe I should invest in a white noise machine or something of the sort. But some perverse thing in me refuses to let that bird win. Even though the current score is Bird-24, Gina-zip.