Call and Response: Bless the Birds

I’m not an active birder—I don’t have a pair of binoculars, nor do I set out with the intention to identify and catalog the birds of any given area. I find them, however, beautiful, exotic, and even sacred in how they traverse both the sky and the land. I also extend to them a mythical status of being messengers, full of symbolism and mystery. (read my last blog here. Also, avian-themed.)

According to Melissa McGill, a New York-based interdisciplinary artist known for public art projects that explore the intersection of human culture and the natural world, birds are environmental indicators, and “a diverse bird community signals a healthy environment.” McGill’s project entitled “Call and Response” collected over a hundred different video samplings of bird sounds in their local habitat. 

Ornithologists classify bird vocalization into either songs or calls; songs being more complex and with a clear pattern. Songs are used to defend territory and attract mates and are mostly sung by males. Whereas, calls are short and are used by both sexes to communicate varied information and to keep contact intact.  

In Susan J. Tweit’s memoir Bless the Birds: Living with Love in a Time of Dying, it is her husband’s vision of thousands of birds in the landscape before him that offers the first clue that something is amiss in his neurological environment. The momentary hallucination becomes both a clarion call and a harbinger of a building health crisis.

As I read Bless the Birds, which was published in April 2021 by She Writes Press, I reflected on the call-and-response-like connection between the author and her terminally ill husband, Richard. As she shares their life living with love in the time of his dying from brain cancer, the tenderness of their commitment is showcased as one calls out simply “I love you,” and the other responds in turn with the same declaration. Or they recite to each other lines of poetry, which have guided and connected them through nearly thirty years of marriage. It is a beautiful telling of the strains and challenges of caregiving while addressing how both must contend with how to intentionally and compassionately let go of the life they shared. 

            “Love” was not just a word we traded. It was a way of living that Richard and I deliberately cultivated—our expression of both our bond and our species’ terraphilia. At bedtime, we each spoke intentions aloud as part of our practice of mindfulness, a word that has become almost trite but that has real meaning. Mindfulness is simply an effort to be aware of our moment-by-moment experience and choices—of thoughts, feelings, and what goes on around us—without judgment, but with the intention of living “awake,” not on autopilot. The words we spoke to each other each night were a promise to be our best selves.”

 Excerpt From: Susan J. Tweit. “Bless the Birds.” iBooks.

Tweit is a plant biologist. Richard was an economist turned sculptor. Individually and jointly, they embraced and created a harmonious existence with the natural world. They coined the concept of terrraphilia, inspired by “humans’ innate affiliation with the earth and its web of life.”  This mutual respect for the natural world presented them with timeless wisdom, guiding them through each stage of Richard’s decline. 

 This memoir takes the reader into the reality of caregiving, which Tweit is quick to point out that “the ‘care’ in ‘caregiving’ comes first, no matter how difficult.” At times in the book when grief is building and the inevitable death of Richard is nearing, Tweit shares beautiful passages describing the natural landscapes and the native fauna that surround them. Richard was a birder, as were Tweit’s parents; and her willingness to highlight the birds that she and Richard encounter as they take one final road trip offers a broad emotional registry of how their final days were a mix of joy and grief. 

McGill’s project “Call and Response“ contends that “humans have always been attracted to birdsong and bird sounds.” I personally acknowledge that birds connect us to the rhythm of our days beginning with their crack-of-dawn singing and ending with their evening dusk songs. Without their presence, it would be unfathomable to imagine what life would resemble. This may also be what Tweit’s grief felt like as she imagined her life without her partner. The reader, too, must prepare for the shorter and shorter call-and-response between Tweit and Richard, until the last whispered syllable of “love” is returned. 

This memoir is true to its title, and its structure is a marvel of timelines that weave and build, not unlike a nest, and holds our hearts open to witness Tweit and Richard’s journey.  I take away many elements of respect and grace from this story, but the following passage stands out as a testament to what it means to Live in the Time of Dying:  

“True courage is strength that comes from the heart—courage that carries the power of love. It takes courage to be honest, to meet with an open heart whatever comes. To practice kindness in a time of hatefulness, to speak truth to power. To live with love in a world awash in fear and grief.” Excerpt From: Susan J. Tweit. “Bless the Birds.” iBooks. https://books.apple.com/us/book/bless-the-birds/id1528832651

 To purchase Bless the Birds: Living in the Time of Dying link here.

Susan J Tweit’s website

Melissa McGill’s website