The Bird in Music: Chasing Ghosts in a Fading Meadow

In honor of the Linda Hall Library opening its latest exhibition, “Chained to the Sky: The Science of Birds, Past and Future,” this post is a celebration of birds’ place in music through the ages. While the celebration is muted by birds’ precipitous decline, it also serves as a crucial reminder that there is still much we can do for these exquisite creatures, and that music continues to echo our deep love and fascination for them. The images, generated with AI, are ones I wish had been created back in the day.

The gentle trill of the lark at dawn, the mournful coo of the dove at dusk— these are not merely a homogeneous soundscape of wild ambience. To the birds who make them, they delineate territory, announce the desire to mate, or maybe warn of predators. For many of us, these songs are threads from which the tapestry of human musical heritage, in part, is woven. Since time immemorial, the avian chorus has inspired the quills of composers, drawing a fine, sonorous line through the history of music.

In the vibrant, exuberance of the Four Seasons, Antonio Vivaldi’s “Spring” movement opens with a gathering of birds, a feisty dialog among the strings that emulates the sweet warbles of a chaffinch or the vibrant calls of a nightingale. The orchestral accompaniment evokes a book meandering by. Vivaldi’s genius lay in his capacity to not only mimic the sounds of nature but, in just three-and-a-half minutes, to elevate them into a sophisticated musical narrative. I can’t listen to it without recalling walks I’ve taken through open woodlands, punctuated by shade and sunlight, listening to a dawn chorus.

In Beethoven’s 6th Symphony, the Pastoral, the first movement, “Awakening of Cheerful Feelings on Arrival in the Country.” pays homage to the cuckoo, the quail, and the nightingale. Each bird is given voice by a different instrument, their songs an integral part of the symphony’s bucolic landscape. These bird songs are not mere background elements; they are integral to the symphony’s bucolic landscape. They intertwine with the other musical elements, creating a rich tapestry that transports the listener to a verdant countryside, filled with the joys and tranquility of nature. The way these bird calls are interwoven with the symphony’s broader themes of pastoral life and nature’s beauty is a testament to Beethoven’s genius. His ability to draw inspiration from nature and translate it into a musical narrative demonstrates a deep reverence for the natural world.

The fascination with birdsong permeated the Romantic period, and was nowhere more skillfully portrayed in Saint-Saëns’ Carnival of the Animals dedicating an entire movement to the portrayal of an aviary. The fluttering flute embodies the swift movements of birds, light and airy, capturing not just the sound but the spirit of and frenetic movement of the residents. This same restless energy was captured by Mussorgsky in “Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks” from his Pictures at an Exhibition.

But it is perhaps in the Organ Symphony No 3 where Saint-Saëns most powerfully sets birdsong to music. The majestic instrument, with its wide range of tones, replicates the complexity and depth of avian chorus, from the delicate to the powerful, portraying the grandeur, and diversity, of the natural world.

In the 20th century, The Lark Ascending, Ralph Vaughan Williams created a tone poem that captures the essence of an English pastoral in music, painting the flight of a lark with a violin’s lyrical solos against a serene orchestral backdrop. Inspired by George Meredith’s poem, this 1914 composition, refined in 1920, blends folk melodies with impressionistic touches. The violin, like the lark, ascends in improvisational freedom, while the orchestra weaves a tranquil, earthbound counterpoint. It’s a narrative in notes, a piece that speaks of transcendence, marking Vaughan Williams as a pioneer of a uniquely English musical voice.

In France, Olivier Messiaen’s Catalogue d’oiseaux profoundly endeavored to capture the essence of birds with a pianist’s touch—each piece a vivid, auditory painting of the bird’s habitat, behavior, and vocal repertoire. While darker and less more dissonant than other works, Messiaen considered birds to be “the greatest musicians existing on our planet.” This deep admiration led him to incorporate bird songs into many of his compositions, effectively using them as a primary source of musical material and inspiration.

The legacy of connection to birds endures in modern times, as contemporary artists infuse their work with the natural acoustics of birds. As bird recordings became more readily available, computers and musicians could replace instruments reproducing those sounds them and concentrate on a counterpoint to the natural voice. Kate Bush’s Song “A Sky of Honey,” from the album Aerial is an example. Björk’s album Utopia, from the album by the same name, is a masterpiece of integration, where the sampled sounds of birds create a texture that is both otherworldly and intrinsic. Musician, composer, author and philosopher-naturalist David Rothenberg takes this further, delivering sounds co-created with avian minds. His electro-acoustic compositions of delve into a collaborative realm, where musicians play alongside live birds, an interaction that dissolves the boundaries between human artistry and the organic improvisations of wildlife.

Despite the legion examples of birds providing inspiring creative works and a deep connection to the sounds they make, their beauty and perceived freedom, a somber counterpoint underscores this relationship. The catastrophic loss of birds worldwide means we are gearing up to witness, during our lifetime, a rising tide of extinction. According to a paper in the journal the journal Science, North America has seen a staggering loss of nearly 3 billion birds since 1970—a decline of 29%. The causes are manifold: habitat destruction, climate change, pollution, and collisions with human-made structures. And cats. Lots of cats. Globally, the statistics are no less alarming, with BirdLife International’s State of the World’s Birds report indicating that one in eight bird species is threatened with extinction.

The decline in birds is an palpable indicator of our planet’s health, a natural melody fading out against the backdrop of human advancement. But this is not merely a loss of sound, culture, and beauty. It’s a loss of ecological function. Birds are pollinators, seed dispersers, and pest controllers; they are integral to the health of our ecosystems. Our response must be as multifaceted as the issue itself. Conservation efforts require the coordination of policy change, habitat restoration, and public engagement. The restoration of crucial bird habitats has become more than a local issue; it is a global necessity. Urban planning must incorporate bird-friendly design and legislation must protect the critical areas where birds breed, feed, and migrate. I’ll write about successes in a future post.

In this challenge, music, and the arts generally, play a pivotal role, moving people in a way that statistics often cannot. When we hear the energetic strings of Vivaldi’s ‘Spring’ or the robin’s bounce in Saint-Saëns’ playful pizzicato, we’re encouraged to value these creatures and the richness they bring to our world. As listeners, as music lovers, as the stewards of this Earth for future generations, we can be the authors of a new era.

So, let us listen—truly listen—not only to the great musical works inspired by birds but also to the birds themselves, calling just outside our windows. Let us be stirred to action by their songs, for in saving them, we preserve the music of the Earth. In every trill, warble, and chirp lies a reminder of what we stand to lose, and a call to join the grand, harmonious effort to ensure that the symphony of life plays on for generations to come.