I turned the corner and traffic sounds were banished by birdsong. Sadly, I can’t identify the lofty soloists of those trilling, purring and staccato interruptions – random, then ensemble, now disputing. It just needed the sunset to make me believe I was passing in front of a stage where jazzmen blew their assorted notes.

Back at my desk, I found this man jamming with birds.

And here’s Olivier Messiaen transcribing, describing and ultimately translating birdsong into piano.

I wonder who the birds listen to.

Birds of Jazz Standards by Melissa Garden

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