2007 March 23
by David J. Ringer

DUNCANVILLE, TEXAS — Wonders abound in the odd intersections between time and space. There are spectacles and mysteries, traces of the past, and hints of the myriad future. When we bird, we place ourselves into those intersections deliberately, hoping to delve just a little deeper into the universe.

A Golden-cheeked Warbler recently arrived on a hilltop in Texas. He is singing now, staking out a territory for the mate he hopes to win. He flits to the top of a juniper tree, tilts back his head, and releases a brief, complex melody.

Below him, birders named Mike and David emit stifled exclamations. Farther away, down in the riverbed, huge three-toed hollows are a trace of the dinosaurs that once roamed this land. There were no Golden-cheeked Warblers then.

And what when another era has passed, and again, there are no Golden-cheeked Warblers? Warblers do not leave their footprints in stone, and their songs fade quickly in turbulent air.

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