Miami was built on what used to be all Everglades. Nowadays, Everglades National Park is less than 50% of what it was before humans started to destroy it in favor of urban housing developments and motorways. In the 1800s, when James John Audubon visited Florida, he wrote: “We observed great flocks of wading birds flying overhead toward their evening roosts …. They appeared in such numbers to actually block out the light from the sun for some time” (nps.gov).
I always enjoyed sharing that fact with my fifth graders when we learned about the Everglades. It was hard to imagine so many birds filling the skies, especially in downtown Brickell. We’d stare out of our large classroom windows and try to visualize what the sky would look like filling with birds.
In our new apartment, we look out over a quiet neighborhood filled with trees. We can see the Miami skyline, the sun rising above it every morning with spectacularly colorful displays, entering our home and warming it right up with its light.
And we can also hear birds. Lots of birds. Hoots, chirps, tweets, trills. Sometimes we can see them flying in flocks, around and around. But mostly we can just hear them in the trees.
This morning, I decided to slice on the balcony. As soon as I slid open the heavy glass door, I could hear that the birds were out. I even caught a flock as they passed by. I set my phone to record so you could hear them:
As I finish the slice up, an airplane, that man made bird, flies across the sky, drowning out the sounds.
The birds keep singing.
Writing With Abandon 
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