When he fell in love with birds and began to photograph them, his anxieties dissipated. The sound of birdsong reminded him to look outwards at the world.

Ok. It's possible that birds may sing just for the joy of it.

If you listen to birds, every day will have a song in it.

The birders I encountered in books and in the world shared little in common except this simple secret: if you listen to birds, every day will have a song in it.

If the wind is going the right way, some birds like to spread their wings and hang in the air, appearing not to move a bit. It is a subtle skill, to remain appreciably steady amid the forces of drift and gravity, to be neither rising nor falling.

But I remember thinking it seemed cruel that a bird should be punished for believing it could fly.

Now when I hear birdsong, I feel an entry to that understory. When I am feeling too squeezed on the ground, exhausted by everything in my care, I look for a little sky. There are always birds flying back and forth, city birds flitting around our human edges, singing their songs.

I like the idea of songs sung by those without big voices. You know, small birdsongs that rise above the noise of the city.