For the birds
May is a great month for birds.
This morning was foggy with humidity you could stir with a stick, but it didn’t phase the birds.
They slept in a few minutes and began their rituals slightly later.
The bluebirds won the morning battle of the birds. A quartet of them serenaded us as we walked.
Arriving back at home, our resident mockingbird was in full form. There’s no other bird quite like it. Saucy, dive-bombing cats, singing whenever and wherever it pleases, it may be my favorite.
I’ve often wondered how a grown man who hadn’t heard a mockingbird would react to its unique singing and mimic.
Behind the mockingbird’s solo, a mourning dove coos softly in the front field.
As a domestic addition to the concert, a neighbor’s crow greets the morning.
At bedtime last night I sat alone writing. I heard a chimney sweep flutter down to the covered chimney.
Removing the plywood, I caught the small bird and felt its heart beating rapidly in my hand. Don’t worry, buddy. I’m fixing to let you go on your first flight. I turn on the porch light, open my hand and release the bird. In an instant, it disappears into the dark, it’s life of flight now in chapter one.
Lord, you made so many good things I wish to be grateful for.
May I never forget that birds are one of your best creations.
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