Please support us — Become a Citizen.

Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.




Copy and paste the following code wherever you'd like this story to appear.

Sign in

  • Once or twice per year, when spring and summer come bursting across the world without warning, you will be driving somewhere green and the sun will stream in through the window at exactly the moment your favorite music plays through the radio. Sometimes this eruption of joy must escape straight out your leg and into the pedal, pulsing through the engine and laid into the reeling asphalt. The overflowing feeling may burst through the poor car, so you roll down the windows and it goes pouring out. The music gets louder, barely hanging on to its own rhythm, and the pedal is still pressed down and the wind is high fiving your hand stretched out the window, and as the sound barrier falls away you become a hurtling beam of youth and health and fire, and you are alive.

    Today was one of those days.

Collecting stories is a way to gather your favorite Cowbird stories into shareable collections — kind of like assembling personal anthologies.

You can see some of our favorite collections here.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    px wide
    px tall
    Embed code (copy and paste into your web page)
    Would you like to send another?

      Sprouting a story is a way to respond to one story with a story of your own — kind of like sitting around a campfire and following the flow of conversation.

      To sprout stories, please become a Citizen.

          Better browser, please.

          To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.