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.