By Robert Dean
Carter County Times
You know what’s nice about birds?
They live in their own world, just soaring above the melee down here. They sit in the branches of trees and sing. The cardinal does not engage in war. The bluebird doesn’t know what famine is, nor does an owl. There are few moments as precious as those spent in solitude, listening to wrens, robins, and doves over morning coffee. As our world grinds toward artificial chaos, a mallard floats in a pond, unaware.
Maybe we envy birds because they’ve stayed free while we’ve built a world that traps us in screens, in debt, in hatred we never asked for.
As the red-tailed hawk dives for its next meal, it doesn’t care about outrage or tribalism. It doesn’t have a Facebook overrun by bots to keep it angry. There are no bird politicians. There’s no predatory algorithm for a great blue heron.
If they don’t check Twitter, why do we?
Birds don’t hate their neighbors based on misinformation. They don’t shoot them because their feathers are a different color.
To a bird, a gas station sign hanging in the sky is just a place to perch and commune. To a warbler, a puddle is a bath—not something to avoid because it might ruin our $250 shoes. The Whippoorwill may sound blue, but that’s just his call—not a product of economic collapse. An oriole doesn’t know what it’s like to miss a car payment because the electric bill came due first.
As nature sings above us, we ignore its cries.
Birds may live above the fray, but not beyond its consequences. They’re often seen as symbols of freedom, yet they live under threat. They’re early warning signs of habitat loss and warming climates. The mallard floats in water that’s slowly heating. The cardinal nests in trees edging toward extinction.
Ask a killdeer about stillness. About healing. About hustle. About matching the vibes on LinkedIn.
An American goldfinch would never.
Birds don’t care about elections, or money, or status.
They live for what nature asks of them.
An eagle doesn’t know that some kids go hungry when school’s out for the summer.
A grackle doesn’t have to take its shoes off to fly.
While billionaires fly private and politicians squawk, the rest of us are just trying to find five minutes of peace. And sometimes, that moment of clarity comes with the birds. For working-class people, stillness is a luxury.
Parks, birdsong, and nature are a public good—underfunded, overlooked, but vital.
The House Sparrow doesn’t live in a world built on urgency. One where choosing peace over hatred feels like rebellion. Consumerism tells us to chase more.
Birds remind us that enough is already here.
A bird doesn’t drop bombs.
A goldfinch doesn’t shoot up a school.
A bald eagle doesn’t know what state propaganda is.
Maybe we could learn something from our feathered friends—especially the lovebirds.
Maybe it’s time we remembered how to fly.
Not for glory. Not for power.
Just to break free of a world designed to keep us low to the ground.
Contact us at news@cartercountytimes.com
