It starts about 4:30 AM. Or, as my dad would call it, o dark thirty. It starts out sweet. I wake up around that time and hear that little 'chirp'. (Or did it wake me up?) The little birdies are up. And apparently they've had their coffee.
Bob says to me the other day.
"Have you noticed the racket the birds are making so early? What could they possibly be talking about that early?"
He was asking me this on Easter Sunday as we were on our way to church and I said (in a very good bird-type voice) "Woo Hoo, today is Easter. We are so happy!"
"Well then, what were they saying Saturday morning?"
In my improving bird voice I reply "Woohoo! Tomorrow is Easter!" (I even flap my arms a little for effect.)
He continues to ask (which is one of the reasons I love him, he indulges my nonsense.) "What were they saying on Friday?"
Now I answer and I am quite convinced that I sound exactly like a bird would sound if it could speak English "Woohoo it's Good Friday, we don't have to work today!"
And Thursday? "Woohoo, tomorrows Friday and we won't have to work!"
Bob shakes his head thoughtfully and shrugs saying, I guess they do have a lot to say.
Yes, they do.
And our daughter Ellen, in the back seat says, "You guys really need help."
We continue driving and we pass a marshy area and all the Peeper frogs are peeping away.
Bob says "Man! Listen to all those frogs!"
I say, yes, it is mating season for them and that's all the boy frogs calling our for all the girl frogs.
(Again Bob indulges me.) And what are they saying to the girl frogs?
And I answer immediately in a frog-type voice. "Hey baby, come on over, check out my pad." "If you don't pick me I'll croak." "If you were my girl, all the other frogs would be green with envy."
Bob is again amazed at my knowledge of animal conversations.
Ellen is crying.
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