Music: Social Distancing is for the Birds
Song bird feeders are now empty, cleaned and stored until we have an “all clear.” Feeders have been taken down around the region. From Washington D.C., then west through Indiana, songbirds are endangered by a mysterious disease. Not long ago I could sit by a bird feeder, watch the congregation gathering there and hear dozens of songs and calls. Gold finches, sparrows, grosbeaks were common. Not all were song birds, but all were welcome at our feeder.
Then we were told that avian social distancing should be practiced. Bird feeders and birdbaths should be cleaned and left empty.
At one time from tiny chickadees to the proud redheaded Pileated Woodpeckers they would come. There was chatter. From downy to red-bellied, the woodpeckers came when not chiseling a nearby tree… or the eves on a house! Some of the birds would call or cry out from nearby limbs, others would sing glorious tunes, sometimes in a liturgical call and response. I admit to being less than happy when a cowbird flew in to feed. I knew they had bullied their way into a nest or two they did not construct, with a female laying eggs there. This, so that cowbird chicks might be incubated, hatched, fed and cared for by another more industrious bird. Some spring afternoons indigo buntings would stop by to feed on their way north.
Alas. Now silence. I miss the music and the chatter. I miss the surprise of a new visitor. My photography is barely amateur grade: still, I offer some evidence of the visitors. There were days I could count a dozen birds at the feeders. And another dozen or more waiting… Some politely waiting their turn… others just commandeering a place, pushing neighbors out. I miss the chatter of it all, the wonderful mix of guests at these feeders. I often could not predict the “pecking order” of the various varieties. Mostly I miss the noise they bring — especially the music. I feel I owe an apology to the birds or at least an explanation that I understand how they must feel. Do birds feel? Well, I suspect they do but that is another matter. I know humans do.
Birds are one thing. Even more, I miss the human music: the choirs, orchestras, brass bands, string ensembles, and even the cacophony of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” during the seventh inning stretch at Wrigley Field. Public music was an essential part of life prior to the COVIC human-social-distancing we practiced. Many of our human “feeders” were closed down and empty. It has been a long time since I was physically present in worship and heard a choir sing, or sat at the opera and heard a dueling soprano and tenor blend their song.
Elaine and I retired in Bloomington in part because of the remarkable Jacobs Music school at Indiana University. Before COVID there were hundreds of concerts every year at the University. And these were augmented by community choirs, orchestras, festivals and impromptu music around town. A great student opera and local entertainment at the Bluebird club or the Lotus Festival were a possibility. I miss hearing Carrie Newcomer or Sylvia McNair singing in a local park or theater. I miss it all.
The lost chords of these months of pandemic will never be recovered. Lost forever. We are the poorer for it. The prospect of the new delta variant, or the next variant of the coronavirus (what is it, lambda?) continuing to deny this gift is hard to bear.
Music is soul mending. Highlights of my life were painted with music. Tears, laughter and new life understandings have emerged from the music of my journey. I have been blessed to hear the rich harmonies of Mennonite congregations in Northern Indiana, while listening to the orchestra at Chautauqua Institute, or reveling in one of many church choirs as they sang a Felix Mendelssohn or John Rutter piece. I have been transfixed on hearing Charles Webb or Jaebon Hwang master the Widor Toccata on the pipe organ. There were times when Ken Medema would improvise weaving story and song at the keyboard or Ed Kilbourne was adding his folk touches to enrich a story. There was the evening James Taylor had us up dancing at Red Rocks in Colorado.
Sorry birds, I can only guess you miss the music of others who congregate as well. There are now dozens of research studies that demonstrate music, especially choral singing, offer health benefits. Other studies show the power of listening to music in reducing stress, even lowering blood pressure. Might it be that the ugliness and meanness we see in our world might at least be somewhat mitigated with a little more music and less cable television? Let me just say that I look forward live music and singing with others soon. Social distancing isn’t even for the birds!