Sunday, May 3, 2015

One Bird

Lately I've been walking the dogs around my mobile home park (instead of driving 10 minutes to Connors park over by the beach). Henry, the old tabby of mine is waking us up at 5:30 am yowling for food, a new trick of his, so often the sun is not up and it's easier to walk the boys up Wiggins Pass to the Tamiami Trail where the bright street lights give us sidewalks and plenty of grass.



This morning we were late however, and the sun was up by the time we left the house. Being Sunday, there were no large trucks grumbling along Wiggins Pass (there's some kind of industrial site at the end of this road) and the air was cool and crisp -- a very mild 68 degrees. I wore a jacket and it felt good to be walking in coolness, instead of the 90 degree heat that will follow this afternoon.

I heard birdsong, and while the boys were sniffing out a lamppost, I looked up. Over the trees, on a telephone wire, sat one lone little bird. I couldn't tell you what kind of warbler it was, lacking any noticeable color than gray,but it's put me in pursuit of a name. The sound was HUGE for the size of this wee bird, a series of trills, chirrups, chirrees, a pause and then a whole other symphony of song would erupt. It wasn't ONE call, like the internet gives you for each warbler, it was a series of different songs. I stood for minutes listening. The bird was all alone, nobody was on the street--no traffic, no other people or birds. So it felt like I was an audience of one for this magnificent little performer. It was beautiful and it was really LOUD. No mics needed.



The dogs pulled me along, wanting to always go forward into the day and I was reluctant to leave the recital. But that one little bird altered my whole consciousness of this day. I was lighter of step, happier of mind, softer of heart as a result of our miniscule encounter. One bird made that big a difference in that short a time.

I know it's corny, but hey! One is forced to imagine what an impact one human being might make on her fellow humans...and I vowed, in spite of my fears and hangups, my reclusivity and insecurity, to keep practicing my feeble song...to sing when I can as often as I can, in my own way.

No comments:

Post a Comment