I find it heartening to learn that more and more folks are coming home to the pleasures of good ol' country music. It's the most popular sound nationwide, I hear.
It's not suprising to me that people should take a shine to such natural, wholesome music. I only wonder why it took so long to catch on. Why, just this morning I listened to three of my favorite songs, all big hits hereabouts:
"Tung-tung-tung-ah, tillah'-tillah', tung!"
"Conk-er-Eee."
"Trually tru-al-ly."
When folks ask me, "Who is your favorite country singer?" I'm quick to reply. It's the fellow with the flute-like voice who sings "Tung-tung-tung-ah, tillah'-tillah', tung," the western Meadowlark.
Everyone is quick to recognize this country star. He wears a yellow shirt with a big black V on the chest (stands for "Virtuoso," I think) and likes to perch on fenceposts to sing his songs. I find him out beside the county road most mornings, crooning repeatedly.
Another country favorite is the Redwinged Blackbird, an instrumentalist who plays the reedy "Conk-er-Eee" out among the marsh cattails. He's a renegade type of country musician, hanging out with low-lifes like starlings, grackles and cowbirds. There's no excusing his lifestyle, but I still respect his music.
Among the country gals, I have a profound weakness for the sweet, clear voice of the Mountain Bluebird. She doesn't sing very often, but I've heard her "Trually tru-al-ly" floating across the fields just before dawn on a summer's morning and it brought tears to my eyes.
There are lots of other country singers and songs that I listen to, of course, like the Rock Wren's "KerEE kerEE kerEE" and the Western Tanager's "Pit-itik." A flock of American Goldfinches came through the other day and filled the trees with a medley of trills.
Our place, in fact, seems to have landed a spot on the country music concert circuit. Many evenings we get to hear the "yip-yip-yipeeee!" of coyotes up the gulch or the deep-throated "Ker-r-r-r-rock" of frogs down by the river. Crickets and cicadas, whether you want them to or not, will add a line of percussion.
We even have our own local amateur musicians, hoping for their big break on the country music scene. The neighbor's hound, for instance, has been practicing night and day lately. He's got that long, lonesome howl down real good, I must say. If he keeps it up I think I'll buy him a one-way ticket to Nashville.