A little love for the Western Meadowlark

It’s a rare thing to see a meadowlark this time of year. They should all be warm and cozy in their winter homes in the southern hemisphere. But they’ll come back in the spring, bringing with them the song every Wyomingite knows as a song of home.

Meadowlarks are held in high regard around here. They’re our state bird, and Wyoming was the first state to give them that honor. They welcome the rebirth of the prairies with their unique song, and their bold yellow and black markings are a welcome sight as the snows start to recede.

My son Colby wrote a tribute to the meadowlark recently. Here’s what he has to say about our state bird.


Early in the late summer morning

A chill rests over the golden plains.

Dawn paints the sky above in flames

And the world sets to warming.

I breathe in the frost,

And all fear is lost

As the Meadowlark’s call comes toward me.

It never matters where I wander

I hear that song and I’m home.

It comforts me wherever I roam

All the way up north to way down yonder.

What I love the most

Sings from that fencepost

An anthem the cities can’t conquer.

That little lark song doesn’t linger long

Just a few seconds of lilting sound.

And by the time fall leaves hit the ground,

The call goes unheard, unsung, long gone.

And I sit and wait,

Hope and contemplate,

Praying I might hear once more the lark’s song.

Come April, when winter’s not so stark,

When wind and snow lose their bitter bite

And warm Spring challenges Winter’s might,

The days grow long and not quite so dark,

That’s when you will hear

The sound of a new year:

The song of the Western Meadowlark.


I couldn’t have said it better myself. That’s why I let Colby say it instead.