There’s a flock of house sparrows that hangs out in my front yard. Almost every day (well, almost every sunny day) I sit on the porch, and the birds line up along the fence by my walkway and go nuts. There’s one female sparrow – recognizable by the ridiculous feathers puffing out near her beak and her low, raspy voice – who won’t shut up. The other birds twitter and chirp, but this female just keeps at it, whether or not anyone’s listening. I think I relate to her a little too much.
She’ll sit there for hours, even when all the other birds have gone away, calling for them to come back. Or maybe she’s telling them to stay away. She’s sort of my Rorschach blot: her song means whatever I want it to mean on any given day.
I have no idea why she’s always singing, but I’d like to.
I’m a former science museum/aquarium professional turned science journalist. I’ve worked as an intern at Nature, NPR, the Salinas Californian, Big Picture Science and Inside Science News Service. My work has also appeared in Science, Scientific American and The San Jose Mercury News. I love multimedia and podcasts and finding new ways to make science accessible. I’m an alumna of the graduate program in science communication at UC Santa Cruz, and my best friend is a muppet disguised as a cat.
I’m not really sure how relevant those sparrows are to my career, but they felt important.