Back from Ireland

July heat is finally here, closing up the house for our "winter." Nine months of the year the weather here is wonderful with warms days and cool nights. Then summer hits and we hibernate indoors. My least favorite part of summer is that we close the windows at night to keep the cool in, and the blinds during the day to keep the sun out. Our house is very private, although in the heart of town, with views of the mountains, desert gardens and old trees. Less than a mile from Lake Mead and on the Western Flyway, we get many visiting birds including exotics like Northern flickers, Western tanagers, and the tiny, elegant gray verdin with red epaulets on its shoulders. Gambel's quail come daily, stomping about in the bushes and skittering across the drive. When I put seed out Aztec doves, the size of house and purple finch, cluster under the feeder.

But with the house closed, I can't hear the dawn chorus of birds that wake me each morning in cooler weather. One would think that in the desert, there wouldn't be that many birds, but we have a full orchestra outside my bedroom window. When we went to the Amazon last year, one of the things I was most looking forward to was the morning cacophony of bird songs. I expected it to be very loud and varied, since we were in the jungle. It never came. Morning mists on the Rio Negro were almost silent with occasional eerie echoing roars from howler monkeys and the sharp quarrelsome screech of parrots flying overhead.

Ireland's dawn chorus is lovely, however, with a variety of songbirds vying for first chair. We stayed in the country on a number of nights and recorded the sunrise when all else was quiet. Sounds often make up my favorite travel memories.