...and no birds sang

I have new neighbors. Loud (very loud) and wicked neighbors. If you ask the woman in the clock shop next door. If you ask the man who lives in the basement on the other side, and who likes to smoke and drink beer on his stoop at 9am on a Saturday while wearing tiger slippers, he would probably agree that our new neighbors are indeed loud. He seems to appreciate our their charms a bit more. As do I.

A family of American kestrels (aka sparrowhawks) has moved in. Mom, dad and baby. It is incredibly cool to watch raptors sitting on your roof, eating what I hope are mice from the slummy house behind me. More likely they gobbling up the local population of songbirds. Which, while it makes me a tad unhappy, is nature.

This morning I got up at 5:30 for yoga. As I was laying in that fog (you know the one) I realized that there was silence outside. Two weeks ago, it would have been madness, as all the little sparrows sat in the trees yelling their heads off. And that really did make me unhappy. Getting up is so much easier when the birds are busy outside. Getting up to nature is so much better than getting up to an alarm.

But since I have no choice in my new neighbors, I'm prepared to welcome them and enjoy their company. As long as they don't try to make off with my cat.