The ying/yang of a rainy night. The sights and sounds a sensory feast, and yet a scene that scares me a bit. Living with tall trees overhead means living with that feeling. In the middle of a windy storm, I don’t know whether to sit by the window and enjoy the light show, or to hide out in the basement.
I look outside and think about birds sheltering down in the elements, and wonder what in the world they think. When they’re at the beginning of their night and wake in the dark to the clamor of thunder and the gushy sounds of rain pouring down through trees and shrubs to the spot where they’re trying to rest. I understand birds are light sleepers, but they don’t seem to wake up and start tweeting in the middle of a midnight rain. Some definitely tweet at the beginning of a daytime rain. As if to say, “Hey, in case you didn’t notice, folks, it’s raining. Better find cover under some branch.” And I imagine the rest of the birds roll their eyes and think, “Yeah, smarty pants, like the rest of us didn’t notice.”
So do the dads come flying to the aid of the nest when it starts to rain hard? As far as I know, they don’t. I’m not sure we have studies, but I don’t think so. The mother, though, the mother spreads her wings over the little ones and must think something like, “Give me a break, I’ve been at this all day trying to keep these guys fed and content, and now in the middle of the night, when I’m not likely to go out and hunt juicy worms… now… now we get this rain. Like, can’t I at least get a decent night’s rest?” I haven’t found this information at the Audubon site, but what else can those birds be thinking?
“Well, I love a rainy night
It’s such a beautiful sight
I love to feel the rain on my face
Taste the rain on my lips
In the moonlight shadows
Showers wash all my cares away
I wake up to a sunny day
’cause I love a rainy night
yeah, I love a rainy night
Lyrics from Eddie Rabbitt’s I Love a Rainy Night.
etikser 
I remember when that song was new long ago, a fun song. I like your thoughts on a rainy night surrounded by tall trees. We call those Widow Makers. The best solution is a chainsaw!
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Well, I look out on those trees every day as I do my writing and blogging, as I sit where I’m sitting now, and every day I appreciate that I can look out and have that view. Maybe like you feel about the mountains. I’ve had a huge oak come down from the back of the yard, and it thankfully didn’t quite make it to the house, so the risk is there. It’s one of those things you do…you sit sometimes and guesstimate if that tree could reach the house. A few years ago, I had the tree people take down a couple of huge poplars that were too close to the house, and it was painful to watch. But I know it’s safer without them. I think it’s a good old fun song too.
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I suppose that you could walk the distance from the trunk to the house, maybe that would give you an idea. I miss the woods of Michigan and snowmobiling but the climate here is too nice to leave.
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It’s nice that you can go home to visit, and live with the great everyday climate you have. And those mountain views ARE spectacular.
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Thank you! I am planning a trip home today actually, this time I will stay at my sister’s place on the lake where we grew up. Such a special place for us.
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Wonderful!
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I just purchased the tickets… 😂 Have a great week.
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Great, and thanks. You too.
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Love listening to rain and also wonder about the birds in that weather. We had hail last week and I guess an osprey nest cam showed the mother standing over the eggs/hatchlings (?) with her wings spread during the entire storm. I cried when my husband told me.
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Moving. I’ve seen mother birds do things that are nothing short of inspirational. I saw a robin mother one morning over her hatchlings, on the ground, after the nest, I presume, fell out of a shrub. I assume she was there overnight.
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Birds are fiercely courageous and I hope that mama robin was able to protect those hatchlings until they could fly.
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Yes, they are. I’ve seen it more than once. But, the sad realities, no, I remember well. I placed the hatchlings in a make-shift something like a strawberry container nest back in the shrub. Cause they weren’t gonna make it on the ground. (Maybe they were already gone.) She came back a few times, then gave up. I think eventually we buried the hatchlings nearby. It was sad. But she had another nest, and I want to believe that group went on to peck juicy worms out of the ground.
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Oh, this hurts my heart and I’m sorry you had to witness that loss. But hooray for another nest and hatchlings that made it!
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The more I recollect, the more I remember. The crows had found the nest, and although I used to chase them away, I understand crows need to eat too. The nest was probably doomed at that point, because crows don’t forget.
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You’re right that crows don’t forget.
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I also love a rainy night as long as it isn’t too windy. Like you, I am surrounded by trees
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Yes, I prefer rain with no wind. We’re all happier that way.
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Rain is a poetry , rain is a song , rain is a train of happiness for brain . beautiful post . love all .
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Thank you so much for your thoughtful comment.
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Reblogged this on Wonders of Wandering.
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Thank you!
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