For the birds

It was like an episode of The Twilight Zone. Or maybe a Hitchcock movie--only opposite.

When I took my coffee out into the garden Saturday morning, I knew something was wrong right away, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. Everything looked the same. And it was a beautiful late summer morning. I made my usual route around the flower beds before sitting on the porch to contemplate the deep mysteries of life (like whether to spend the day painting the front door or edging the border).

I'd been there for several minutes before it dawned on me. Everything was still. Too still. There was not a single bird chirping. I checked the maple next to the patio. Nothing. I looked out into the shrub border, scanned the ground and did a sweep of the birdbaths. Still nothing. Not a cardinal or blue jay or dove or wren or even a sparrow--anywhere.

How bizarre.

I'd never seen, or heard, anything like it. I kept checking throughout the day, but nothing. I started feeling like maybe the animals knew something that I didn't know and that the New Madrid fault was finally going to blow or that this was the day that Jesus was coming back. But the day passed and nothing happened.

The first thing I did Sunday morning was go out and look for a bird--any bird. It took a while, but finally one lone blue jay came in for an early morning bath. A little later my husband spotted a cardinal at the top of the spruce tree and a few starlings perched on the telephone wire behind our neighbor's house. It was nothing like the usual morning cacophony, but better than nothing.

I was away the rest of the day and got too busy this morning to remember that the world might be coming to an end. But now I'm wondering if this was some kind of area-wide phenomenon or if it was just the birds in my own yard that decided to attend an Audubon Society convention or something...