This Sunday morning in February breaks clear and crisp as I force myself out of the coziness of my down covered bed. Sunlight creeps through curtained windows and chirping sounds of a Carolina Wren herald the dawning of God’s special day.
I used to be an early bird when I lived in Pennsylvania. For me, weekend mornings were made for fishing and watching the sun rise over the calm mist covered waters of Tamarack Lake. But lately, as the years have progressed, I have been just as happy snuggling next to my Bride and floating away into the serenity of never-never land…..As Mary turns and gets the pillow just right I fight off “snoozing second thoughts” as I am determined to experience first hand the beauty of this new found day.
After an invigorating shower with the window open to let in the fresh sea air, I make my way to an outdoor bench next to my very own pond. I am greeted by a Carolina Chickadee singing “chic-a de-dee as it happily flutters about in a low-lying bush. Its mate answers the call and soon I am being surrounded by a whole plethora of fidgety little birds. I chuckle as the spectacle reminds me of the scenes in Cinderella where they fly about helping make her dress. As I lean back and sip my coffee in this newly created aviary a tufted titmouse gets into the act with its “S’you…..S’you” and then all of a sudden an eerie silence.
My first thought is to look skyward for a red-shouldered hawk that frequently has left feathers strewn about in my yard after a recent kill….But all I see is a clear Carolina blue sky….and then….its Alfred Hitchcock time! Somehow my little friends instinctively knew of the coming of “THE BIRDS”. I mean real big birds….black Boat-Tailed crackles. At first only a few were visible at the tip top of the tall standing loblolly pines and then, just like in the movie they arrived. Not hundred but thousands of them swooping out of the sky echoing their sharp gurgles and “chur chur” chirps.
At first, I must say that I was given quite a startle but I quickly reminded myself that Hitchcock was really strange and that eye-pecking only happened in the movies. And after all, these birds, pesky and ominous as they looked were only using my yard as a resting place on their trip back North. Soon they migrated from the trees to the ground and then back again….but it wasn’t their magnificently coordinated movements that was fascinating…. it was their sound. Sitting on that bench in the middle of Mother Nature’s spectacle was like having the best seat in a huge amphitheater with the best of acoustics and speakers. Their high pitched melody migrated from ear to ear and then in some kind of grand finale they screeched and squawked in unison and were gone. I looked back toward the house hoping that Mary had been aroused by the spectacle and had shared it with me, but there was no such luck. She was still in la-la land and it would be my experience alone to reminisce and marvel at and to share in friendly conversation and the written word.
A freshening breeze out of the East brings the soothing sounds of the ocean waves and the Chickadees come to life. A bass feeds on an ill fated fly and the ripples quietly spread over the velvety waters of the pond. As I prepare for Church I will have a renewed reason to resound and emotional AMEN when the Reverend utters his favorite opening remark “Isn’t this a great day to be alive.
LCJoe
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