Taking Notice
My Dear People,
Fresh, vivid green, and wet, glistening skin. And giggles. And sunshine. And birdsong.
That was the scene at our house, Sunday afternoon, as our three-and-a-half-year-old son, Nelson, ran naked like-a-wild-man through the sprinkler, and up and down our backyard.
Childhood innocence. Beautiful.
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So we talked about the birds and the bees.
Really?
Yes. Real birds and bees, that is.
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I was in the middle of pointing out the yellow and black stripes on the backside of the bees, as they buzzed languidly from one little, understated flower to another, distinguishing the bees, for Nelson's benefit, from a few rogue wasps who appeared (and whom I killed), when I realized that we had been, in fact, talking about "the birds and the bees." And in the right order, no less!
Though, of course, we'll get to the metaphorical birds and bees some years from now, having first come to some understanding of the actual birds and bees. He's being prepared for the metaphor, you might say. And much more of course.
Anyway, just moments before, Gena and I had been pointing out to him the pair of Mocking Birds that live behind our house. Actually they live in a neighboring yard, across an alley (we live in the "Fan"); that is, their nest is in a neighboring yard--or must be, anyway (I've never seen it, which, I'm sure, suits them just as well).
Whatever the case, they are in the air and on the wires above our yard much of the time, many hours of the day.
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In the last couple of years I have become more aware of birds. Mary Oliver's collection of poems Red Bird got me going. (Can't recommend it highly enough.)
To a certain extent, I have always been aware of birds, of course. I can remember, as a child, being taken with the blue of the Bluejay and the red of the Red Bird. (Even if the scientific name is Cardinalis cardinalis, I am always more inclined to say "Red Bird." Somehow, I suppose, reference to a prelate seems intrusive.)
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To round out the primary colors, on Friday a male Goldfinch landed on the wire above the backyard.
Whoa! Flaming yellow!
No wonder he's also called a "Wild Canary."
And then, on Sunday afternoon, he brought back his mate. And they sat about five feet apart on the same wire. Like candlesticks on an altar. Or acolytes in the temple of God. (Funny enough, I accidentally wrote "Godfinch" just now.)
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So, yes, I have always been aware of birds, and yet, until Mary Oliver woke me up, I wasn't paying enough attention to realize that the Bluejays, and Red Birds, and Robins, and Wrens, that I've been seeing and hearing all my life, all were, like "our" two Mockingbirds, individuals. With, somewhere, in some yard, or field, or forest, a certain tree, where they lived; for at least part of the year.
I mean, of course I knew this. I knew about bird's nests, etc. And yet, I didn't know.
I hadn't bothered to know. Hadn't bothered to notice.
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"Aren't two sparrows sold for a farthing?," Jesus said, "Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father."
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It turns out,
Nelson's not the only one with a lot still to learn about the birds and the
bees.
Taking notice; or
trying to, anyway,
your
brother in Christ,
Wallace+
