The Language of Birds

Communal roosting: the science of birds, the language of something more.

It started like a question.

A strange music, soft but insistent—like a radio playing somewhere I couldn’t quite place. I stepped out from the garage, curious. Searching. The sound grew louder, layered, almost electric. That’s when I saw them.

Blackbirds. Hundreds of them. Tucked into the trees and the bamboo patch along my sister’s property line. Their bodies hidden in the green, but their voices everywhere - crackling, chattering, singing over one another like overlapping frequencies. It wasn’t chaotic. It was orchestrated. A kind of harmony that felt ancient.

Overwhelmed, I ran inside to get my sister. “Come hear this,'“ I said.

And we stood there together, hushed and wide-eyed. Two grown women stilled by birdsong. Not because it was beautiful in a traditional sense, but because it was alive, and full, and meant something. I wish I knew what they were saying. The message they had for themselves… for each other… for the world.

Scientists call this communal roosting; a behavior seen in blackbirds, grackles, and starlings. They gather in large numbers, especially in transitional times like dusk or shifting weather, to share warmth, exchange information, and offer safety in numbers. It’s instinctual, purposeful, and efficient.

But standing there with my sister, it felt like more than biology. It felt like language. Like ceremony. Like something sacred was being spoken, and we were lucky enough to overhear it.

That moment has stayed with me. And as I rewrote Chapter 11 of Moonie and Sola, it rose again - this time in story form. The girls don’t just hear birds. They hear a chant: “Onamar. Onamar, Onamar, Onamar…” A name. A place. A calling. The veil between worlds has thinning, and nature speaking louder when the world forgets how to listen - to be heard.

We forget, sometimes, that the natural world is alive with conversation.
That trees, tides, and birds don’t just react. They speak. They gather. They guide.

And if you find yourself wondering this week - about the world, about your place in it, about whether you’re still being led - step outside. Listen for the radio in the trees. Because the sound that finds you might be more than birds. It might be the a message meant just for you.

---

If this resonated, I hope you’ll like, comment, share, or subscribe. And come back next Monday for another musing—and Friday for more magic from Moonie and Sola.

---