When I first moved to this little farming community in Costa Rica, I would hear roosters crowing in the morning before the dawn would break. After the first day, I realized that it was all day long and into the night that the roosters crowed.

I loved the quaintness of it. “Ahhhhhh, this is the good life,” I thought. I did worry that I might find it less quaint after the first couple of weeks. What ended up happening, though, is that I naturally tuned them out; they simply became part of this exotic and new background noise that was, day by day, becoming more familiar.

The birds singing. The insects chirping. The dogs barking. The children laughing. The trucks downshifting as they came down the mountain. The scarlet macaws. The Egg Man. Roosters slipped into the mix and after a while, I didn’t even hear them in the morning. I woke up when I woke up.

Then a bird appeared.

Three mornings ago around daybreak, I awoke to the sound of a bird pecking at the window closest to my bed. Perched on the railing, the bird would peck twice, sing, pause, and then do it all over again. And again. I don’t know if I was too tired for it to bother me, or if the bird stopped, but I fell back asleep, eventually waking up around 7:20am.

That night, when I went to bed, I decided to put my camera beside the bed so I could photograph the bird since I was certain he would appear again, given that this exact same thing happened to Erin over at De La Pura Vida.

Oh, hey look what appeared the next morning!

You know, you could sing that song of yours anywhere else and that would be just fine.

You know, you could sing that song of yours anywhere else and that would be just fine.

What the hell, bird?  Why?

What the hell, bird? Why?

(I would apologize for the quality of the photos but I was barely awake. This was while laying in bed. I wasn’t getting up for this.)

Yesterday morning, the same thing. And once again, I fell asleep.

Yawn.

Yawn.

Why?

Why?

This morning, at…. oh, I don’t know, sometime around the crack of f#ck, same thing. This time, I threw my shirt at it. It flew away. I fell asleep.

I’m leaving here in two weeks, flying back to the States for a few days. I have no plan to get rid of the bird. It’s not terribly awful. Yet. And I could probably stand to use an early morning alarm clock for the next couple of weeks. I wake up naturally early anyway, but having a snooze alarm isn’t such a bad thing, I suppose.

About the Author

Hello, I'm Scott. I take photos. Do things. Whatnot. Mixed Digital Media Artist.

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