We’ve all heard the saying “the show must go on,” but I never knew the true meaning of this statement until I finished my first season with the Santa Fe Opera. It has the only outdoor opera house in the country, located in the hills of the Sandia desert, just a few minutes north of Santa Fe, New Mexico.

You really couldn’t ask for a more beautiful setting to experience opera. Patrons tailgate before the show in the parking lot, enjoying wine and mountain views, then make their way into the opera house just in time to watch the sunset while the orchestra warms up in the pit. While the setting is ideal for the artistic experience, it introduces other factors that are slightly less romantic: bugs, wind, volatile temperatures, sudden thunderstorms, and the occasional interaction with wildlife.

We were in our third performance of Samuel Barber’s opera Vanessa—a brilliant, musical melodrama set in all black and white for dramatic effect. We had just started performing the “Intermezzo”—an exposed orchestral interlude with a harp solo—when I notice some activity in the front of the cellos. I couldn’t see what had happened, but it seemed that a random object had fallen into the pit during the performance. Despite the distractions, the conductor continues giving beats, and I continue playing, all while keeping a curious eye towards the front of the stage.

After a few more measures, the principal cellist waves to the stage crew in the wings and whisper-yells, “Fire! There’s a fire!” The stage hands snake their way into the middle of the pit, all while the performance continues, though at this point, I’m becoming slightly concerned. After some more shuffling around, the stage crew exits, we make it to the end of the scene, and the show goes on.

Afterwards, the whole orchestra was buzzing backstage, asking each other what happened? Are you okay? What fell from the sky? Was there a fire? The operations director finally descends and explains that it was…drum roll please…a flaming bird’s nest.

So this raises a few questions. First, how did the bird’s nest fall into the pit? Second, why was it on fire? And third, how did the audience not respond to a flaming object falling from the ceiling?

Apparently, earlier in the day, a nice momma bird decided she liked opera music so much that she started building her nest on a ledge above the stage. Little did she know that this ledge was not actually a ledge, but a heater. (Due to those volatile nightly temperatures, the opera occasionally uses large heaters on the ceiling to warm the musicians on stage and in the pit.)

So, the rest is history—momma builds nest, temperature drops, heaters turn on, bye-bye bird’s nest. I still don’t know how the audience didn’t freak out, but perhaps they were so engrossed with the music that they didn’t notice the small fireball dropping from the roof.

For me, I gained a new appreciation for the complex inner workings of opera companies and their ability to handle any crisis, and a new sense of confidence knowing that I can keep my focus despite even the craziest distractions. To those concerned with the welfare of the bird and its babies, rest assured that there were no animals harmed in the process; we just hope the bird had nest insurance. •

—Grace Browning, Rochester, N.Y./Santa Fe, N.M.