Last night, I put my hair in curlers and went to bed early so that I could get up early this morning and work on homework. I started my homework at about 5:15. At about 6:00, I started to hear birds singing around my house. No, no birds have come to my abundant bird feeder yet, and I'm trying not to take it personally. But I could hear birds singing, and thought about how strange it is that birds are diurnal, and yet obviously get up before the sun does. Everything was completely dark. Still, I wondered what bird was singing so sweetly and whether or not I could add it to my list.
By about 6:40, the sun was coming up, but I was still working on homework, so I continued to listen to the sweet singing melodies while I wrote about the idea of Europe. At 6:50, I could no longer stand it. And so, like a sexual deviant or a pervert, I emerged into the early morning outdoors in my pajamas, curlers, flip flops and with my binoculars. Not that I think that sexual deviants or perverts wear curlers. They might. It's just that you can't help but feel dirty walking around your neighborhood with binoculars in the misty morning.
I followed the sound of my singing bird and realized that it was in someone's back yard. Fortunately, it was in my former district leader's back yard. Though even if he walked out and caught me in his back yard with binoculars, there may have been awkward moments of clumsy explanation. Unfortunately, the bird in question was a robin. A robin? Yes, my disappointment was fairly bitter. Who knew they sang so sweetly? I have only ever heard them chirp.
I spent the next ten minutes walking around other people's backyards, since they all border on mine anyway. There was one tense moment when a police cruiser drove by, but I just jumped into the bushes with the rest of the starlings and sneakily snuck back to my safe little house where no one could judge me for wearing curlers, flip flops, pajamas, and carrying binoculars.