The Good Morning Birds
One of my earliest memories as a child is going with my father to the track early in the morning and what I have over the years remembered as the Good Morning Birds. I was very young, not more than four years old. I didn’t want to go because I thought I’d be bored. My father told me if I was good, I’d get to see these special birds wake up and fly out of the pond that sat just beyond the fencing of the track. It must have seemed exciting to me at the time because I went along with my father and I clearly recall being happy about it. The sun had not yet completed it’s ascension to usher in the new day and the sky was painted in colors of yellow and pinks and purples and navy. I chased my father around the track and then stopped at the final turn where the pond was. I pressed my face hard against the chain link fence, looking through to the pond and only saw a green layer of slime and some lily pads. It was still and silent. Nothi...