We have a neighborhood Cardinal family. They nest in the back yard of our neighbor, but this is the second year in a row that Mama Cardinal has chosen my backyard to raise her young. We have some shrubs near our shed that she builds her nest in. I have to admit it’s rather daring of her, the shrub is chest-level and I have a rather large dog. Every time I come out of my garage into the backyard she flies away, and sits on my fence. I feel bad for disturbing her, but what, I can’t go in my own backyard now? I never cared about birds until now. I love them.
Birds are endearing to me because they are tireless workers. I bust my ass 60 hours a week, so I admire the bird. They endlessly search for food to feed their young. They don’t even have “weekends off.” They don’t complain. One of my favorite things from the Bible is a bird metaphor/parable. Something from the New Testament about how you should not worry, for if God feeds the birds, surely you’ll be taken care of too. There’s a hidden meaning there, I mean, you still have to earn your keep. Birds know this.
I just ordered a bird identification book. I have binoculars. Just one more application to be in the Modern Thoreau Club, MTC. Their calls and chirps comfort the soul. My favorite camping moment is in the tent at night, under the watch of barred owls. It’s their world, I’m only living in it.