Despite the old saw about critics, writing about music or art is an exercise in translating the untranslateable—conveying the emotional impact while using an alien system. You’re not just describing something; you’re attempting to recreate the experience of encountering it. For Orion, Patrick Madden applies that exercise to a birdcall, and turns it into a lovely meditation on the shortcomings and opportunities of an unfit tool.

The part of this story you’re still missing is some kind of description of the zorzal’s song, some attempt to render what my ears have heard. So far, you’ve got vagaries like “call,” “song,” and “trill,” but these are, after all, just ready-made words. I might be describing any bird, or human, or bagpipes. So let me give it a go. I could say that the sound a zorzal makes is both musically rhythmic and rhythmically defiant. I don’t think it would scan well or fit right on a musical staff. Their song strikes me as joyous, gleeful, proud: a quick pair of galloping triplets, followed by a climbing slur, a sudden double drop, then a legato rising hold and, finally, a lower, unresolved note that leaves me, for one, wanting more. So the bird begins again.

More picks about birds

Lord God Bird

J. Drew Lanham | Orion | December 29, 2025 | 4,721 words

“Does the ivory-billed woodpecker still exist?”

Pity the Barefoot Pigeon

Ian Frazier | The New Yorker | May 5, 2025 | 4,919 words

“Bumblefoot, string-foot, and falcons are just a few of the hazards that New York’s birds have to brave.”

Gone in Seven Seconds

Matt Joyce | Texas Highways | May 5, 2025 | 2,465 words

“Racing pigeons hightail it home in competitions across the state.”