Waiting for birds can be a lengthy process requiring stealth. Small, feathered creatures of great mystery flit just out of sight, their unique calls muffled by wind, traffic, and neighborhood lawnmowers. It can be thrilling to see a Carolina wren building his nest through furtive trips through the yard, picking up a twig here, a string there. It’s a special treat to happen upon the creature at his work.
Then, suddenly, the wren is boldly out in the open, trilling passionately on the back fence. He is unmistakable, up close, downright loud!
Just so, a bird never before seen bursts in the house. The sliding door left open on one of those rare mild days lets in great drafts of spring air, not yet laden with Gulf Coast humidity and unrelenting heat to be expected in the coming weeks. What is the worst that could happen with all that cross breeze? A stray bird flutters in, of course, at the moment when all the bird enthusiasts are visiting the neighbors and the disgruntled homeowner is left to shepherd a frantic bird out of the house.
That very same bird, perplexed by the sweeping arch of a large front window slams into it with a deafening crack that appears at once to have chipped the glass and ended the life of delicate feathered creature. All worries prove superfluous: the common yellowthroat with his lone ranger mask peers up at curious children through the glass as he recovers. As the children move closer and gain energy in their curiosity, the bright yellow fellow streaked with black, flicks his tail and, against all expectations, escapes the house relatively unscathed for the second time.
While even the most common avian friends can be nowhere to be seen on some days, other days find the wren shouting his song in the backyard, the yellowthroat in and out of the house, and a rare leucistic cardinal bouncing through suburban yards while we take a walk.
That shocking abundance can be hard to manage. The plants propagated with great enthusiasm in early spring can become unwieldy, reaching, spreading. Beyond the plants themselves, they become hosts teeming with flies, strange insects camouflaged with clumps of dust and dirt. Already committed to the twining vines of leaves, the shockingly bright buds bursting forth, the experience of plants throughout the home, we can persevere with the flies and yellowing leaves, the evolving sunlight needs and pruning recommendations for our various plants.
And to think, three months ago we worried that they wouldn’t grow.
So it is with so many things we in experience in overwhelming tidal waves of exertion. Youth and beauty have a way of coming upon us with such breathtaking force that we forget to notice that each instance is still rare. There will come moments when the birds are hard to find again, when plants slumber in the earth, when the vitality we once took so much for granted that we didn’t notice will desert us for a time. Let us not become blind to the showers of rare gifts we receive, the ones we come to appreciate when they are inevitably far from us.
