Bobwhite

My father was a very interesting man, but sadly I didn't realize this until after he died. He has been gone over fifteen years and I still discover or remember remarkable things about him.

My father was pretty good at imitating bird calls, a talent I never appreciated as a child. It was just something he did on occasion, but not often. It was something I might have once thought to be corny or embarrassing. I don't think I ever asked him about it. Never once showed any interest in it.

Now I would like to know how he learned to whistle just like the birds from his east Texas home. Did someone teach him, his father, perhaps? Or his mother? That would certainly shed new light on the grandparents I barely took the time to know. What were the names of the birds he could mimic? What did they look like? I only recall one call, that of the bobwhite - only because a bobwhite says its name. I wouldn't know a bobwhite if it flew into my room, lit on my nose and trilled its name repeatedly.

I'm beginning to develop an interest in birds. I enjoy watching them at the feeders and I even have quite a library of bird i.d. books and a pair of binoculars. I'm not very good at identification - they all have wings, a beak and feathers - which means they look pretty much the same to me.

If Daddy were here he could help me. I could close my eyes and listen to their calls. First from the birds and then from my father as he would patiently try to teach me to whistle. I'd like to think I wouldn't be too busy. Too busy to sit and listen and learn from a good man whom I never fully appreciated until it was too late.

So, I vow to take time to listen to the bird calls. I'll take time to listen for the bobwhite's call and to think of my father. I might even learn to whistle.