Sing

Sing

So, prompted by a prompt to write a blog entitled ‘Sing’ I’ve started singing. Being a somewhat different prompt to my usual prompts to rant away about some egregiousness or other causes my chemo-addled brain to pause awhile. Sing. To sing. Looking and thinking about the little word sing soon makes it seem a little weird, same as interrogating any word. But with Jeff Buckley singing Allelujah causes me further perturbation and ‘sing like a bird’ comes to the fore.

I read recently that birds living in noisy human environments lose their ability to sing, do any of you folk living in such environments notice any birdsong? Do the offspring of such birds suffer the same, does some sort of evolutionary thing evolve and they become mute or develop different songs? Are they able to find mates normally attracted by song? Do they develop other means of finding mates?

We humans constantly find new ways of finding mates and in highly populated places many now use tinder: ‘Tinder is how people meet. It’s like real life, but better.’, from the tinder website. And that ‘it’s like real life, but better’ for a country bumpkin like me is weird, truly we live in dear old Umberto Eco’s hyperreality.

So do pigeon’s develop a tinder-like homing system? Do twite’s turn to twitter?

Anyway, living in sleepy old Swanage I hear a lot of birdsong and in my dotage I appreciate it more. And some of it is pretty complex and having the time to just sit and listen and hear it better is lovely.

Maybe if more of us made time to listen a little more life might be sweeter.

Sing

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