There’s joy in pleasing a bird. That’s my great takeaway from the pandemic. Little things make me a lot happier than they used to, and I’m hoping they always will. When the weight of the world seems to be knocking at your door daily and your whole life has been upended, you’d think it would take a lot to pull you out of the dark places your mind can go, but it doesn’t. A blue jay’s wacky hop through the birdseed on your porch will just about do it.
I never took much notice of birds before, even though Mama is a certified Bird Lady. But at some point during the past year, well before vaccines, I decided I needed something new to look at while I worked. So I hung a couple of birdfeeders on the little front porch of the Story Shack and consulted Mama on proper feed and care. What began as entertainment for me turned into a fascination with them—with birds and their fine-feathered ways, from the blue jay—“a blue jay’s a fussy bird!” Mama says—to the peaceful doves that hang back just a bit so as not to stir up trouble. They have such personality. And they seem able to coexist well enough with the squirrels and the chipmunks.
Of course, I imagine bird-voiced conversations: “Have you tried the sunflower seeds? Oh, my, they’re just delightful. You’ll want to get here early for the supper buffet.”
Cheeto, whose nap chair sits by a big glass window overlooking the porch, thinks he has acquired his own personal Animal Planet station and watches the birds and chipmunks till he falls asleep.
And so it goes in the Story Shack for a little while longer—birds and squirrels and chipmunks and the occasional invasion from inquisitive toddlers next door, out for a snack from the basket of treats in my office and a gleeful grab at the wind chimes hanging from an arbor nearby.
The moral of this avian meditation, I guess: Even when your joys are small, your joy can be full. Prayers for your joy and peace this Sunday morning.