Busy

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When’s the last time you spent 45 minutes or so just sitting on the grass in the backyard watching the birds fly by?

If you were able to name even one time – you’re one ahead of me.

Wow.

On wings.

There were blue jays, of course, and goldfinches, and mourning doves calling, calling, calling. A crow. Just one. And red-winged blackbirds. Chickadees. A nuthatch at the feeder. One vivid scarlet flash in the green leaves of the tree out back was a cardinal that got away from my camera. Again.

A moment or two later and a whoosh of much larger wings rushed over my head – a hawk – there just a minute and off again.

Was it ever really there at all?

But the blue birds!

They’re nesting out behind the neighbor’s trampoline in a simple, wooden box mounted on a rusty, iron pole. In and out, around and back, flying in bursts and sudden sprints. First up in the tree, then down on the lawn, and one more swift shot across the yard on wings so blue, I don’t quite believe they’re real.

So there I sat – a little worried about ticks – but not much else. Me and a chipmunk sharing a sit-down on some green grass out back.  Now that chipmunk, he talked the whole time, but not me.

I listened.

There’s plenty of room out there in the trees, and all those birds sure were busy.

For once though – I was not.

 

 

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