A Story of Birds, In Three Parts
On Beauty, Distraction, and Being Present
There are a handful of people who will fully appreciate the continuing irony of my writing on birds. But winter has a way of slowing us down, beckoning us to see things we might otherwise miss with warmer weather. Slate gray skies and impeccably white snow also do their part by providing a canvas upon which contrasting colors dance and explode.
I’m not saying I don’t appreciate seeing squirrels scurry around my backyard and bury acorns, or rabbits lazily hop through the snow close to the window where I write in the mornings. I always pause what I’m doing to watch them. But around my house, the squirrels, rabbits, chipmunks, and even the skunks all look the same. The birds, however, add their own unique diverse and colorful accentuations to the tapestry, which always catches me off guard.
Like when I was sitting in a nondescript parking lot recently. I was lost in thought, biding my time until my next something. I stared blankly out my dash at the ground in front of me when a bluejay landed in that spot, its vibrant blue feathers cutting through the drab scene. While it is easy to spot robins and crows in Indiana, and maybe an occasional red bird, one rarely sees a bluejay. I was mesmerized. It hopped about, commanding my attention, a vivid burst of life where none had been moments earlier. Then another bluejay landed. And another. And another. And then a fifth! I must have watched them for twenty minutes in complete awe before someone walked close enough to scare them away.
Each winter, countless birds take over the towering, leafless trees a quarter-mile from my back porch. If you were to venture past those trees those trees toward the intersection of National Road and 10th Street, where the skies open wide and the trees offer no cover, you’d see tens of thousands of birds filling the air. The spectacle is almost indescribable— majestic waves of movement, folding and unfolding in perfect harmony. A billowing ocean of aerial artistry. A tangible expression of a graceful spirit, breathing life into the gray monotony, reminding us that beauty endures and offering hope to carry us through this season into the next.
I hope others at that intersection didn’t miss it.
I saw a guy sitting on a concrete wall beneath a tree. He was lost in texts and likes and loves, and all of the responses he was getting to his latest post. I doubt that’s true, but I assume he is a lot like all of us. Unconscious to his surroundings, the man sat below two magnificent cardinals. As I watched him take a long drag of his vape pen, I didn’t judge him for missing the moment. I thought about all the times I’ve done the same. In that moment, I wasn’t thinking about that man’s distractions but my own— how many simple wonders I still miss because I don’t pay attention.
Question
What simple wonders might I be missing because I’m too caught up in my own distractions?
Peace,
Brandon
