The Ovenbird is just one of those birds. It’s got character, a loud voice, and means business when it comes to hunting arthropods on the forest floor. When I hear Ovenbirds calling from somewhere, somewhere out there in the deep forest, my life is richer for it. Similar to seeing Robins return in the springtime, there’s just something about hearing an Ovenbird shouting “teacher, teacher, teacher, teacher” somewhere. Out there. Where few choose to go.
I tell my mother that this is her favorite bird, although she would probably disagree. I speculate the Cardinal is really her favorite, but no. I tell her, and insist, the Teacher Bird is her favorite. For my Mom was a teacher, and what teacher would begrudge a bird whose song is “teacher, teacher, teacher, teacher”? The very song of this bird delegates it to superiority over all others. That is if you’re a teacher. This bird’s for you, Mom.
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