Nightingales of Inwood
If there are any ornithologists out there reading this, please enlighten us. When the weather warms up, the birds of Inwood seem to confuse midnight with dawn, because as I close my eyes to enter dreamland the birds break out into a twilight song. It starts with one chirp, but then it crescendos into a melodious chorus, like night has found her voice and is enticing you to find her. If you’re not a Hitchcock fan, this should be relaxing, except my circadian rhythm tells me that when I hear birds and I am laying in bed, IT’S TIME TO WAKE UP AND GO TO WORK. Oh how cruel that such beauty in nature can be raped into the modern man’s alarm clock! They sing on and on until about 3:30am when suddenly it becomes Inwood-Hill-Park-dead-silent.
It is strange because 3:30am is usually when the birds of Central Park start singing, at least in my book. Maybe it’s the same crew that picks up and takes the party there. How many nights did I wake up and cling onto the grey bars of our concrete terrace and wonder what makes birds sing at night? Is it the artificial sun our mastery of electricity makes, which also f*cks up our view of the celestial mosaic of stars? Do the birds feast on crack pebbles scattered in the scummy puddles of city West Nile-standing water? Is this what makes them party during the night and sleep away their normal call to announce day? I don’t think the nightingale is native to Inwood. Or is it? A seal has been recently spotted in the Inwood waters and they say seals once thrived here. Are animals reclaiming our cities? Someone please tell me.
