Spring is peeking in green through thawing earth, sweetening air with birdsong and pollen perfume. So, I've begun searching for cardinals. It's an obsession that has been growing - dare I say nesting - in me ever since high school.
love
For some reason seeing the red winged beauties, hearing their 'purdy, purdy, purdy' metallic cheep or their clear, slurred whistle phrases, 'what-cheer, what-cheer ... wheet, wheet, wheet, wheet'; gives me a sense of God's providential presence in my life. When a bright red aviary angel wings his way across my path it feels as if all will be well in the world, God's promises will be kept, Grace will continue to light on the branches of our hearts.
For some reason seeing the red winged beauties, hearing their 'purdy, purdy, purdy' metallic cheep or their clear, slurred whistle phrases, 'what-cheer, what-cheer ... wheet, wheet, wheet, wheet'; gives me a sense of God's providential presence in my life. When a bright red aviary angel wings his way across my path it feels as if all will be well in the world, God's promises will be kept, Grace will continue to light on the branches of our hearts.
In our book, Walk with Me: Two Friends on a Spiritual Journey my friend Cheri and I share some hilarious bird poems and escapades that are worth checking out (pages 73-74).
I’ll share two of the poems here. The first is Cheri’s ode, written when a robin decided to make her nest in my front door wreath. Knowing that I’m inclined to have maternal feelings toward anything – including wildlife - she told me, “Sal, I would take that nest down now, before that bird lays her eggs in it. It’s either that or you’ll have to play midwife to a nestful of hatchlings. And just think how traumatized you’ll feel when those new birds start to fly and one of them splats, beak first, onto your porch. Then what will you do?”
I ignored my friend's wise advice and routed all household traffic through the garage for several weeks while my baby birds gestated. The ‘Bird by Bird’ reply following Cheri's threat is my responsorial poem, written in the voice of Mama Robin.
ODE TO A MISGUIDED BIRD
Oh misguided bird on Sal’s front door wreath,
With no leafy branches to rest beneath,
Your nest has been built without even an inkling,
About your dear neighbors and what they’ve been thinking.
Maybe they’ll see you as ‘Martha’ décor
Blue eggs to match with their lovely blue door.
Worse yet, they might have a peculiar taste,
For scrambled bird eggs in their ‘blue’-berry crepes!
You might get adopted – oh just wait and see,
I heard Ben wants a pet with a sweet melody.
Have my scare tactics worked?
Do you believe?
Pack up your bags and MATERNITY LEAVE!!
I’ll share two of the poems here. The first is Cheri’s ode, written when a robin decided to make her nest in my front door wreath. Knowing that I’m inclined to have maternal feelings toward anything – including wildlife - she told me, “Sal, I would take that nest down now, before that bird lays her eggs in it. It’s either that or you’ll have to play midwife to a nestful of hatchlings. And just think how traumatized you’ll feel when those new birds start to fly and one of them splats, beak first, onto your porch. Then what will you do?”
I ignored my friend's wise advice and routed all household traffic through the garage for several weeks while my baby birds gestated. The ‘Bird by Bird’ reply following Cheri's threat is my responsorial poem, written in the voice of Mama Robin.
ODE TO A MISGUIDED BIRD
Oh misguided bird on Sal’s front door wreath,
With no leafy branches to rest beneath,
Your nest has been built without even an inkling,
About your dear neighbors and what they’ve been thinking.
Maybe they’ll see you as ‘Martha’ décor
Blue eggs to match with their lovely blue door.
Worse yet, they might have a peculiar taste,
For scrambled bird eggs in their ‘blue’-berry crepes!
You might get adopted – oh just wait and see,
I heard Ben wants a pet with a sweet melody.
Have my scare tactics worked?
Do you believe?
Pack up your bags and MATERNITY LEAVE!!
A “BIRD BY BIRD” REPLY TO THE WOMAN OF WORDS
Three eggs I’ve laid in front door wreath nest
With feathers and twigs, I’ve done my best
To make a home, a residence
That in my bird-brain makes perfect sense
Misguided, I’m not, though you may think it’s absurd
That I haven’t read What to Expect, When You’re an Expectant Bird
An emu, flamingo, penguin, or grouse
Might be stupid enough to forsake a full house
But, I’ll ‘maternity leave’ when baby robins take flight
Roosting’ll not end ‘til the moment is right
I know that your words about Martha, crepes, and pets
Are simply deluded, vain empty threats
So, please leave me alone, or Sally might stop
Bringing me pickles, worms, and ice cream with cherries on top
Since this poetic battle, Cheri and I have written a few more odes to the feathered harbingers of spring. The first is one Cheri wrote for me after I saw two male cardinals on one of my walks. They seemed, to me, to promise that two of my long-rejected manuscripts would find their way toward publication. The second is my poem, written after Cheri told me the story of a Bluejay who seemed to minister to her mother during her dad's battle with Cancer.
Two birds, flushed red, side by side fly
a promise given that your words too
will be bound, together -
showing others how to soar in the beauty
of a Son-filled sky,
dipped in the gift of
crimson-covered friendship.
The Birds
A lighting promise on a branch
that brings hope to the soul,
When fear and doubt have muted faith
a song of God's control.
The dove came back to Noah's ark
two cardinals wing the words,
of hope and bluejays wing of health:
ministry of the birds.
Feel free to share any bird/wildlife stories of your own. And, blessings to you as you look for the crimson promise of cardinals in your life.
One of my favorite wedding gifts:
a male and female cardinal painted by my dear friend Heather's mom, Carol, on a Longaberger picnic basket.
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