kindle a sense of Wonder on every walk.

They never really left.

At any point on your walk, find a bird. Any bird — a pigeon on a wire, a sparrow in a hedge, a crow crossing the sky. Stop and really look at it. The scaled feet. The quick tilt of the head. The ancient, watchful eye. Then hold one thought as you watch: this is a dinosaur. Let the idea settle over the bird like a new light, and see how different it looks.

Birds aren't just related to dinosaurs — by every scientific measure, they are dinosaurs. When the age of the giants ended sixty-six million years ago, one small, feathered branch of the family carried on: light enough to fly, clever enough to adapt. And it didn't just carry on — it flourished. It spread to every corner of the earth, put on every color imaginable, and filled the sky with song.

And here it is — on your street, at your feeder, crossing your sky. You get to share your ordinary morning with dinosaurs, and they greet the sunrise by singing. The most wonderful comeback story this planet has ever told is perched a few feet away from you, and the very best part is this: it sounds like music.

The age of dinosaurs never ended. It learned to sing.