
Anyway, now that I’m off my soapbox I want to talk about birds. No, really. To wake up in Assisi is to wake up to the most beautiful sights and sounds this side of the great divorce. Death, I mean. Only heaven and its hosts of angels could sound more beautiful than the swooping, soaring, sitting, singing birds that populate the Assisi skies at the break of day.

G.K. Chesterton once wrote about St. Francis as only Chesterton could. His book became famous. In chapter 2 of the same he masterfully commented on Francis’ greeting of the dawn after a long night in prayer. This is what he wrote.
While it was yet twilight a figure appeared silently and suddenly on a little hill above the city, dark against the fading darkness. For it was the end of a long and stern night, a night of vigil, not unvisited by stars. He stood with his hands lifted, as in so many statues and pictures, and about him was a burst of birds singing; and behind him was the break of day.
Assisi and its birds still greet waking pilgrims as they greeted the still-awake saint who prayed through the night, often. Making a pilgrimage to Assisi is worth every cent. Seeing the birds is worth a few more.