Looking Out My Back Door: The birds, the bees and flush toilets

Every morning at first light a symphony of birds sings me awake. I don’t say it’s necessarily pretty birdsong. The New York Philharmonic it is not. But it is loud. And it is a mixture of voices of whatever birds are hanging out in this part of the state at any particular time. Perhaps a better description is of musicians tuning their instruments prior to the performance. Tuning takes a good hour. At full light each singer flies off to greet the day with its perfect song.

At any one time I look out my windows and see dozens of birds, a bouquet of variety. I wish to know their names. Some I can...