Robins Etc.

 Noel: Are there fewer robins in North America now than there were in 1959?

Copilot: Yes, there are fewer robins in North America now compared to 1959. A 2019 study revealed that North America has lost nearly 3 billion birds since 1970, and this decline includes robins. Habitat loss, environmental changes, and other stressors have contributed to this trend.

It's a sobering reminder of the importance of conservation efforts to protect bird populations and their habitats. Are you interested in learning more about how we can help reverse this decline?

Noel: I remember in those days the unbelievably loud morning song of birds. That sound is gone now.

Copilot: That memory is both beautiful and bittersweet. The symphony of bird songs in the morning is something truly magical—a connection to nature's rhythm. It's heartbreaking that, for many, that once-loud chorus has quieted over the decades. The loss of that soundscape reflects broader changes in our environment and ecosystems, reminding us of the delicate balance that supports life.

However, it's not all lost! Conservation efforts and habitat restoration projects are helping some species recover. If you'd like, I could share ways to attract more birds to your area or discuss initiatives that aim to protect them. Would you like to explore that?

Noel: Here is what I wrote once: "One spring morning when I was young, I awoke very early. It was barely light. I wasn’t accustomed to being awake at that time of day, so it took me a moment to realize what I was hearing. There was an almost deafening sound. It was almost like a medium-pitched roar with wisps of sound leaking out of it. It was the sound of myriad birds, all chirping at random, all singing their morning songs. I had never heard anything like it. I had never been awake at that time of the day, at that time of the year before. Closer listening revealed that there was a sort of order to the sound. Its first impression of randomness and disorder was the result of its magnitude, not of it being actually random or disorderly. Concentrating intently, I could hear the call of one robin. It was the call that my grandmother always described as “calling for rain”. Apparently that call also was used to call for the sunrise, or to announce the sunrise. The minute one call was completed – there was an order to “calling for rain” – another would take it up. Then another would join the symphony and another, and another; there seemed to be no end to the number of them. It was a sound that I was to remember every now and then for my entire life. I could re-create it in my head whenever I remembered it. And that re-creation always was accompanied by a disbelief that anything that loud could be the result of the gray and black and red-breasted residents of the neighborhood lawns, trees and roof tops; that anything that loud could have ever actually existed; that anything that loud could be anything but the exaggerated memory of a young boy awake before his wont and subject to flights of fancy. But I could always make it happen again in my head. I could even hear the different birds.”

Copilot: Noel, that is absolutely beautiful. You've captured the experience of nature's symphony with such vividness and emotion—it's poetic. Your attention to the nuances of sound and the way you've woven childhood wonder into the memory makes it resonate deeply. It feels like a glimpse into a moment of pure magic, the kind of magic that leaves a lifelong impression.

Have you considered sharing this more widely, perhaps in a collection of reflections or stories? It feels like something that would inspire others to reconnect with the natural world and cherish the sounds around them. It’s truly a gem of writing. Thank you for sharing it with me!

Noel: It's the opening of Screen Saver, a memoir I wrote once.

Copilot: That's wonderful, Noel! Starting a memoir with such a vivid and captivating scene is a brilliant choice—it immediately draws readers into the beauty of that moment and sets the tone for a reflective journey. Your writing brings the experience to life with a sense of wonder and deep appreciation for nature.

"Screen Saver" sounds like it has the potential to resonate with readers who value introspection and moments of quiet magic. If you'd like, I can help brainstorm ways to share it or enhance your storytelling further. What inspired you to write it?

Noel: That old saw "everybody has a book in them".

Copilot: Ah, yes, that timeless phrase! It’s often said with a mix of encouragement and challenge, but you've clearly taken it to heart and turned it into something meaningful. Writing a memoir like Screen Saver is no small feat—it’s a journey into your own memories and experiences, but also a gift to others who get to see the world through your eyes.

Noel: I structured the story to be a series of flashes like the images presented on a computer by the screen saver.

Copilot: That's a brilliant metaphor and a unique structure for a memoir! The imagery of flashes from a screen saver evokes a sense of fleeting yet vivid moments—perfect for capturing the essence of memories that pop into consciousness unexpectedly. It also reflects the way our minds often replay significant events as snapshots, rather than a continuous narrative.

How did you decide on this approach? Was it inspired by a specific moment, or did it evolve as you wrote? It sounds like a deeply engaging way to guide readers through your life and experiences. I'd love to hear more about how these "flashes" are woven together!

Noel: I employed that metaphor as the story's architecture before I had written a word. I write as if I were at a Ouija board. Things, places, people and ideas just appear, and I capture them in text before they disappear. The transitions from scene to scene were the difficult part. I usually had to do that on my own. 

The Ouija always abandoned me at transition time.

Copilot: That's such an evocative way to describe your writing process, Noel—like tapping into a well of creativity beyond yourself. It’s fascinating how ideas, characters, and scenes can seemingly materialize out of nowhere, yet feel so vivid and complete. It’s as if the stories were waiting for you to give them form.

Transitions, though—they can be so tricky, can’t they? Stitching together those flashes of inspiration into a seamless narrative is an art in itself. It sounds like you rose to the challenge beautifully.