the miraculous, every day in winter, not 15 feet from my window

red-birds-at-feeder

To the Editor:

Re “The Solace of Birds in Winter” (Op-Ed, Dec. 15): I am smitten with my backyard birds. What is it about the industrious little souls leaping delicately about my tray feeder that so lifts the spirit? Their spunk? Their equanimity no matter the weather? The variety in their eating habits?

Mourning doves plunk themselves down in the center of the tray to chow down. The red-bellied woodpecker grips the edge and won’t yield his position. The chickadees and nuthatches take a seed each, one at a time, to a nearby branch to nibble.

A chickadee weighs less than half an ounce. Its coat of feathers, half an inch thick, keeps its tiny body at about 90 degrees even when the air temperature is zero. It is this, then, that takes my breath away and is the source of my affection — the miraculous, every day in winter, not 15 feet from my window.

Margaret McGirr
Greenwich, Conn.

New York Times, Letters, December 17, 2018


Photo: Project Feeder Watch titled “See Red” by Stephen & Judy Shelasky, Longmeadow, MA. 4 male Cardinals, a Red-bellied Woodpecker and a little sparrow checking out a female Cardinal as she flies into view.

Lightly child, lightly.

dove-fly-gif-jpg

Where is the thought that breathes?

Where is the breath that lifts us like the bird

that flies without thinking flight?

~ J’Lyn Chapman, from “A Poetics of Absolute Time and Space

 


Notes:

  • Photo: via Mennyfox55. Poem: Thank you Memory’s Landscape
  • Prior “Lightly child, lightly” Posts? Connect here.
  • Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”

Hello… they seem to cry, who… are… you?

Also invariable present at some indefinable distance are the mourning doves whose plaintive call suggests irresistibly a kind of seeking-out, the attempt by separated souls to restore a lost communion:

Hello… they seem to cry, who… are… you?

And the reply from a different quarter. Hello… (pause) where… are… you?

No doubt this line of analogy must be rejected. It’s foolish and unfair to impute to the doves, with serious concerns of their own, an interest in questions more appropriate to their human kin. Yet their song, if not a mating call or a warning, must be what it sounds like, a brooding meditation on space, on solitude. The game.

~ Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire


Notes: Related posts from Edward Abbey: Desert Solitaire

Good Mourning


One minute of Nature inspirited meditation to start your day.

The Mourning Dove is one of the most abundant and widespread of all North American birds. It is also the leading game bird.  Its ability to sustain its population under such pressure stems from its prolific breeding: in warm areas, one pair may raise up to six broods a year. Its plaintive woo-OO-oo-oo-oo call gives the bird its name. The wings can make an unusual whistling sound upon take-off and landing. The bird is a strong flier, capable of speeds up to 88 km/h (55 mph).  Males and females are similar in appearance. The species is generally monogamous, with two squabs (young) per brood. Both parents incubate and care for the young. Mourning Doves eat almost exclusively seeds, but the young are fed crop milk by their parents.

This video was taken on the MPG Ranch which is located at the north end of the Sapphire Mountain Range in the Bitterroot Valley of Montana. For more information on the producer,  mpgranch.com


Source: Thank you korraled

Less

Portrait of Woman Holding Dove

Your Miscellaneous Way

Occupying your own skin with joy,
I watch you
listen to yourself living,
discovering each day
how much less of everything
steadies you into being.

– Terrance Keenan


Credits: Image – Mme Scherzo.  Quote: Whiskey River.  More on Terrance Keenan @ this link.

4:22 am. And Inspired.


Wednesday mornings are customarily reserved for my selections of fellow bloggers’ inspiring posts of the week.  We’re departing from our normal fare. My Rachel shared this 6-minute clip last night.  I was captivated. No more words. WATCH.


Note to Rachel. Your short email to me said: “good video about how we (women specifically) perceive ourselves.” Your subject heading was “awesome video.”

I do believe you missed a few sentences in your email.  Here’s what I read between the lines:

“Dad, you were relentless and I didn’t like you for it.  How many times did you tell me I didn’t need eye make-up? Hundreds, I think.  How many times did you tell me that I didn’t need hair color.  That nail polish didn’t matter much.  That I didn’t need any make-up at all.  That I was beautiful just the way I was.  I’m beginning to get it now Dad.  You were right. (Again)  Thank you Dad.”

You are welcome Honey.  You are more beautiful than you think.  Yes you are.

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