This post is a little bit of this and a little bit of that—only this time, it has a bird theme.
My third grade teacher called me a bird brain more than she ever called me Renee. I thought she was paying me the highest compliment when she compared my brain to a bird’s. I loved birds. I loved watching them and wondering what they were thinking as they looked down at the world. I loved writing poems and short stories about them. I still love birds. I love their songs. Their colors. The nests they build in such creative, carefully chosen spots. I saw this nest last week:
I’ve always enjoyed the names for different groups of birds:
A group of crows is called a murder.
A group of finches is called a charm.
Jays: party
Larks: exaltation
Owls: parliament
Pheasants: bouquet
Ravens: conspiracy
Starlings: scourge
Turkeys: posse
Vultures: wake
How can you not want to play around with these words and ideas? I did. I wrote the following article:
“The Bird Brain’s Blotter”
Parliament convened last night at midnight, with other bird delegations in attendance. The meeting was orderly and run in a dignified manner, except for the occasional outburst of exaltations.
- First on the agenda: all those present agreed that action must be taken regarding the growing number of murders. Four murders in the same backyard on a Tuesday afternoon could be deemed a public nuisance.
- A complaint was made about the party that started at dawn and got increasingly louder as the morning went on. The party blamed it on an uninvited exaltation, but the exaltation proved they’d been singing their morning songs at a neighboring farm at the time of the party. A conspiracy raised the idea that it had been a scourge that had joined the party. At this time, several complaints were lodged against the scourge. “Honestly,” a plump yellow member of the charm twittered, “I think the scourges are a much bigger problem than the murders. They steal our food, taunt the cats, and make a terrible mess when they eat. They make the rest of us look bad!” Parliament motioned to investigate the scourge and gave the party a warning for disorderly conduct.
- On the agenda for next week: Parliament will discuss the upcoming hunting season, letting everyone know when the hunters will begin their search for bouquets. Parliament is extending a special invitation to any posse in the area to attend the meeting, with hopes that together, the posses and bouquets can come up with a plan to outwit hunters.
- Final note: for those of you who were asking about the wake yesterday afternoon, it was only for a prairie dog. But as usual, the wake became overcrowded and unruly. Until further notice, the wakes and the parties are to keep their numbers low and respect the noise ordinances.
In 1902, the Brooklyn Daily Eagle had a column with this quote in it: “The little bird does not sing because of duty, but because its little heart would burst if it did not sing.” The bird sings because it has to. I write for the same reason. If I didn’t, my heart would burst—filled to overflowing with unwritten words. I feel this way about writing any words, but I especially feel it about poetry; I’d rather write poetry than anything else. Yet when I read the poems of the masters who’ve gone before me—poets like Eliot, Auden, and MacNeice—my heart is elevated by their words, but my spirit despairs of ever being able to write poetry the way they do. God reminds me, “Different birds. Different voices. Use the voice I gave you.” So I’ll keep using my voice to write lines and limericks and free verse and sonnets because my little heart will burst if I don’t.
Last spring, Monty and I were in the kitchen when we heard a bird fly into our closed living room window. We went to the window to check on the bird. He was lying on his back on the ground, not moving. But we looked closely and saw his tiny chest moving frantically up and down as he tried to catch his breath. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a stray cat coming around the corner, headed straight towards that poor defenseless bird. Monty saw it, too. Within seconds, he was outside, kneeling over the bird to keep the cat away. In the next few minutes, the bird started breathing more slowly and regularly. He clumsily rolled up onto his feet, stood there for a minute, a bit dazed, then flew away. Not until then did Monty stand up and come inside.
The incident reminded me of a passage of scripture. After Jesus chose His twelve disciples, He sent them out into the world with some words of instruction and warning. He told them not to be afraid of the people who wanted to harm them. He said, “What is the price of two sparrows—one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. And the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows.” (Matthew 10:29-31)
Time and time again, God reminds me of this. He does for me what Monty did for the bird that hit our window. When I fly off course and make a mistake, God protects me until I’m able to get back on my feet and then fly again. When I’m tempted to say, “God, do You even see me? Do You care how much I’m hurting?” I’m reminded that He does, in a very personal way. He cares for each sparrow that falls. How much more must He care for me?
And finally—my favorite thing about birds? In order to watch them fly, you have to look up.
“The earth compels, upon it
Sonnets and birds descend.”Louis MacNeice
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Comments 12
Renee, this is such a good blog post! You have a wealth of information and I learn something new every time I read your words! You inspire me, truly you do! I love your poetry. I think you have what it takes to be a poet! You have a God given gift and you use it to bless others. I love what you said, “My favorite thing about birds? In order to watch them fly, you have to look up.” God cares so much for you and He will meet ALL your needs. Thanks for blessing your readers once again, my beautiful friend. ❤️
Melanie–thank you for such thoughtful words; I know you mean them so sincerely. Thank you for using your gift of encouragement to bless me. Love to you. ❤
Love the story about saving the bird, my daughter was in to saving birds when she was growing up, in the summer she was always feeding a bird that had been injured, it was a blast watching her care from, when she brought home a stray dog we did have problem.
I think sometimes I take birds for granted, but then we go out on the deck in the morning for a cup coffee and there will be two or three birds singing it is such great way to start the day.
I always plant seeds in our old garden like sunflowers and other plants that have seeds birds can eat all winter as a result we have several different kinds of birds that hang around all winter. It is great to have them hanging around during the winter, it’s like spring is around the corner.
Really enjoyed this post, thank you for awesome posts.
Love,
Grover
Grover–my brother Adam and I were like your daughter, bringing home stray cats, birds, whatever. I like it so much that you’re the kind of man who thinks to plant food especially for the birds. You’re right–when the birds are singing, even in winter, they remind you of spring and hope. Thank you for your words, Grover. I appreciate you so much.
Sparrow! You gavewritten a smorgasbord of wit, charm, life. Kudos. Actually afte4 your title, the pic of Chick-Fil-et, “ hooked me”. Google say#s Bird Brain, “an annoying, shallow person. Yo7 are certa8nky none of those descriptions. Loved this Blog. , I git a “kick” out of yiu4 Parkiaments description of their activities. Murder Bjrd# serenading in the a.m, hours, Then H7nters will have to gather Bouquets,mwake fir aOraurue Dog, made me chuckle, smile. You mentioned The Brooklyn Eagle, an “ Old daily newspaoer that “folded” in the ‘50’s. I did not realize that Birds Sing, or their lungs would burst. But, there is beauty and poetry in their singing/chirping. When Jesus picked his 12 disciples,, what an awesome task they had..:Jesus reassured them. Do not be afraid, what comfort8ng words from Jesus. I am sure it gave them the mind set , that nothing woukd sto9 them from spreading the glorious word s and actions of Jesus. What I found most comforting in your blog, w3 can always find Peace, when we simply “look up”..Beautuful finish to this wonderful blog. Keep o;bBlogg8ng, Sparrow. TexGen
TexGen–a smorgasbord–I like that! I’m so glad this made you smile. I shouldn’t be surprised that you’ve heard of “The Brooklyn Eagle” because you always know those kinds of things. I like what you said about the disciples realizing they had an awesome task before them and needing reassurance from Jesus. Even they needed to know that there is peace to be found in looking up. Thank you so much for your words–they went straight to my heart tonight. ❤
Renee! This is the best one yet! You do know birding is my hobby….I’m not as active as I once was, but I do still take my field guide and binocs anytime I go anywhere. And yes, you need to look up…but keep your mouth shut so nothing drops in😎
Lora–yay! I was hoping and hoping that you would like this one. I do know that birding is your hobby–the first time I heard “bird” being used as a verb was when you said it. I like your Lora twist on looking up. 😊 I will try to remember that in the future. Thank you for your words, my dear aunt.
Oh gosh, by golly!! I have said it before but until the next topper, THIS is my most favorite one yet!!! We have wit, we have wisdom, we have the wonder of His creation and we have waxing of poetry unparalleled! (Whew! I was running out of “W’s”!🙃)
Thanks for the blessing my beautiful bird brain friend!
Danine–that alliteration is the language of my heart. Thank you for speaking it so beautifully! I’ve read that “W” sentence many times now. 😊 I’m so happy you liked this post–thank you for blessing me with your wonderful words. Love to you. ❤
💕❤I love birds and your story about saving the bird that hit your window.
Thank you, Beth! I appreciate you taking the time to read my words. ❤