It amazes me sometimes how our everyday life can be like living in the Discovery Channel; that is, if we take a little time to really see what is going on around us. I know that there are times we simply cannot take time to "smell the roses" due to some urgent event or emergency. On the other hand, on those occasions when you do not find yourself pressed by some deadline or tied up by some unforeseen circumstance, I hope you will occasionally take time to look at what is going on around you.
Just this morning a couple of things happened that made me feel as if I were trapped in a filming of some nature show dealing with birds. First, as I was driving on a street near my residence I was forced to stop by a stop sign at a T-intersection. While waiting for traffic to clear, my attention was caught by what appeared to be a bundle of feathers hurtling across the way in front of me. As I watched I was able to determine that the churning ball of feathers was in fact two mocking birds locked together in what, for mocking birds, must have been semi-mortal combat! As the two birds clawed and pecked each other, they somehow managed to fly across the street and land on the sidewalk of the house directly in front of the stop sign. Somehow before landing (or crashing!) the two quarrelers separated, both landing on their feet on the sidewalk. Then both birds ran nearly side-by-side for a few feet, stopping in front of the single stair that went to the front porch.
I checked behind me to see that no one was waiting to turn, then I continued to watch the mocking birds as a strange thing happened. The two birds stopped in unison, turned on their heels (umm...I suppose birds have SOMETHING LIKE heels?), and faced each other squarely. The bird on the left began leaping straight up into the air, not flapping its wings at all. When this bird stopped, apparently having leaped a sufficient number of times, the bird on the right did the same, leaping straight into the air, apparently "tying" the leaping skills of the first bird. Not to be outdone, the first (left) mocking bird began a strange "dance" involving only its neck and head. The dance consisted of strange movements, cocking and bobbing of the head, that were quite reminiscent of our own "walk like an Egyptian" dances. This went on for about thirty seconds, at which time the second mocking bird then advanced a similar performance.
Once again I glanced behind me. Luckily no cars were waiting so I continued to watch the mocking bird hoe down. Unfortunately the show was at end. Apparently the "Egyptian Dance" was the "make it or break it" contest, with the bird on the left being the "champion." Although I, with mere mortal (and male!) eyes could discern no difference in the two birds' dancing skills, the outcome was obvious to victor and vanquished. The victorious mocking bird strutted toward the loser, chirped or something, and the second bird turned and flew away. I am not sure what the victorious bird "won" because as soon as the defeated one flew away, so did our champion. I have to say that this strange ritual was so unexpected for me that I neglected to grab my camera to record it. Snapps! as my daughter would say. I have only seen this event once in my life, and I may well never see it again. But if I DO, that camera will be turned on pronto!!
So, thrilled at what I had seen, but disappointed that I had not "filmed" it, I drove on to my residence. Upon arrival, how could I know that I was about to be graced with another bird show? But it happened! My neighbor, two doors and one bird nest over, is the Sparrow Family. Although neither of us have been to the other's home, we have shared a few special moments over the past nesting season. Today, though, I once again saw a ritual I have never witnessed, although I have heard of it, and I know it happens to all birds that reach bird-age. It is the day when the parent birds have to exercise "tough love" by kicking the children out of the nest. Poor mothers and fathers everywhere, I can sympathize with you, and with Mr. and Mrs. Sparrow as well, when it comes to having to empty the nest.
The first thing that caught my attention was Mr. Sparrow sitting on the eave of the roof, and the three young Sparrow children perched beside him. Then I saw the fourth Sparrow child, who was making quite a little noise. This child Sparrow was somehow clinging to the side of the building and trying to get through the hole in the wall to its old, familiar nest. But blocking the wall was Mrs. Sparrow, who was making an angry, scolding sound, while giving, what was I suppose, a very harsh look to her birdling. But what really caught my attention was that the mother sparrow had her tail feathers spread in similar fashion to the way a male peacock opens his colorful tail fan. Unfortunately however, the sparrow was using her tail feathers to block the entrance to the Sparrow residence. Try as he might, the young Sparrow child could not get past its mother.
As I watched this inevitable ceremony, I had to wonder to myself whether it was possible that birds, on their level, have some sort of feelings, such as sadness. I had to wonder if the mother sparrow felt some gnawing at her heart as she forced the little sparrow to seek shelter elsewhere. For you see, Mr. and Mrs. Sparrow would return to this nest next year, as they had this spring and at least one spring before. This was their home. The Sparrow children would have to find nests of their own. But I noticed something else, as well. One of the Sparrow children that had been seated near Mr. Sparrow while all this was going on suddenly flew to the ridge of the roof of our building. The bird then began exploring the various nooks and crannies, apparently in search of a new nesting or resting place. The the fourth sparrow baby had finally left the entrance to the nest and was now perched near its father. Mrs. Sparrow still stood at the threshold of the Sparrow Residence, lately emptied of its younger occupants.
Mr. and Mrs. Sparrow have not had a totally rosy summer with their children. The month of June was unusually hot (okay, it was about PAR for Midland). During the hottest part of that month, one of the Sparrow children died. I suspected it was due to the heat, but I really don't know. In any case, the Sparrows raised their remaining children, and in due time taught them to fly. Now, I suppose today was that "due time" in which sparrow parents everywhere must force this year's supply of children out, so that there will be room next year for the new crop.
So I was treated by nature to two exciting glimpses of what goes on in the world around us. The two mocking birds were engaged in what was, to me a comical and entertaining display of antics, but what must have been a serious matter for the two birds. Perhaps the "losing" bird was forever vanquished from the particular house and yard. The Sparrow children learned the hard way that they were now on their own, and I felt some sympathy for them, and for their parents. Yet I noticed also that their father was perched on the rooftop with them. Yes, they would have to make a new life for themselves, but their parents would see them through the newness of it. It was a somewhat sad event, but so full of adventure and hope as well, for the newly released sparrows. I counted myself blessed for having seen these things today, and for the reminder to take time to notice the world, not just human busyness.
Just this morning a couple of things happened that made me feel as if I were trapped in a filming of some nature show dealing with birds. First, as I was driving on a street near my residence I was forced to stop by a stop sign at a T-intersection. While waiting for traffic to clear, my attention was caught by what appeared to be a bundle of feathers hurtling across the way in front of me. As I watched I was able to determine that the churning ball of feathers was in fact two mocking birds locked together in what, for mocking birds, must have been semi-mortal combat! As the two birds clawed and pecked each other, they somehow managed to fly across the street and land on the sidewalk of the house directly in front of the stop sign. Somehow before landing (or crashing!) the two quarrelers separated, both landing on their feet on the sidewalk. Then both birds ran nearly side-by-side for a few feet, stopping in front of the single stair that went to the front porch.
I checked behind me to see that no one was waiting to turn, then I continued to watch the mocking birds as a strange thing happened. The two birds stopped in unison, turned on their heels (umm...I suppose birds have SOMETHING LIKE heels?), and faced each other squarely. The bird on the left began leaping straight up into the air, not flapping its wings at all. When this bird stopped, apparently having leaped a sufficient number of times, the bird on the right did the same, leaping straight into the air, apparently "tying" the leaping skills of the first bird. Not to be outdone, the first (left) mocking bird began a strange "dance" involving only its neck and head. The dance consisted of strange movements, cocking and bobbing of the head, that were quite reminiscent of our own "walk like an Egyptian" dances. This went on for about thirty seconds, at which time the second mocking bird then advanced a similar performance.
Once again I glanced behind me. Luckily no cars were waiting so I continued to watch the mocking bird hoe down. Unfortunately the show was at end. Apparently the "Egyptian Dance" was the "make it or break it" contest, with the bird on the left being the "champion." Although I, with mere mortal (and male!) eyes could discern no difference in the two birds' dancing skills, the outcome was obvious to victor and vanquished. The victorious mocking bird strutted toward the loser, chirped or something, and the second bird turned and flew away. I am not sure what the victorious bird "won" because as soon as the defeated one flew away, so did our champion. I have to say that this strange ritual was so unexpected for me that I neglected to grab my camera to record it. Snapps! as my daughter would say. I have only seen this event once in my life, and I may well never see it again. But if I DO, that camera will be turned on pronto!!
So, thrilled at what I had seen, but disappointed that I had not "filmed" it, I drove on to my residence. Upon arrival, how could I know that I was about to be graced with another bird show? But it happened! My neighbor, two doors and one bird nest over, is the Sparrow Family. Although neither of us have been to the other's home, we have shared a few special moments over the past nesting season. Today, though, I once again saw a ritual I have never witnessed, although I have heard of it, and I know it happens to all birds that reach bird-age. It is the day when the parent birds have to exercise "tough love" by kicking the children out of the nest. Poor mothers and fathers everywhere, I can sympathize with you, and with Mr. and Mrs. Sparrow as well, when it comes to having to empty the nest.
The first thing that caught my attention was Mr. Sparrow sitting on the eave of the roof, and the three young Sparrow children perched beside him. Then I saw the fourth Sparrow child, who was making quite a little noise. This child Sparrow was somehow clinging to the side of the building and trying to get through the hole in the wall to its old, familiar nest. But blocking the wall was Mrs. Sparrow, who was making an angry, scolding sound, while giving, what was I suppose, a very harsh look to her birdling. But what really caught my attention was that the mother sparrow had her tail feathers spread in similar fashion to the way a male peacock opens his colorful tail fan. Unfortunately however, the sparrow was using her tail feathers to block the entrance to the Sparrow residence. Try as he might, the young Sparrow child could not get past its mother.
As I watched this inevitable ceremony, I had to wonder to myself whether it was possible that birds, on their level, have some sort of feelings, such as sadness. I had to wonder if the mother sparrow felt some gnawing at her heart as she forced the little sparrow to seek shelter elsewhere. For you see, Mr. and Mrs. Sparrow would return to this nest next year, as they had this spring and at least one spring before. This was their home. The Sparrow children would have to find nests of their own. But I noticed something else, as well. One of the Sparrow children that had been seated near Mr. Sparrow while all this was going on suddenly flew to the ridge of the roof of our building. The bird then began exploring the various nooks and crannies, apparently in search of a new nesting or resting place. The the fourth sparrow baby had finally left the entrance to the nest and was now perched near its father. Mrs. Sparrow still stood at the threshold of the Sparrow Residence, lately emptied of its younger occupants.
Mr. and Mrs. Sparrow have not had a totally rosy summer with their children. The month of June was unusually hot (okay, it was about PAR for Midland). During the hottest part of that month, one of the Sparrow children died. I suspected it was due to the heat, but I really don't know. In any case, the Sparrows raised their remaining children, and in due time taught them to fly. Now, I suppose today was that "due time" in which sparrow parents everywhere must force this year's supply of children out, so that there will be room next year for the new crop.
So I was treated by nature to two exciting glimpses of what goes on in the world around us. The two mocking birds were engaged in what was, to me a comical and entertaining display of antics, but what must have been a serious matter for the two birds. Perhaps the "losing" bird was forever vanquished from the particular house and yard. The Sparrow children learned the hard way that they were now on their own, and I felt some sympathy for them, and for their parents. Yet I noticed also that their father was perched on the rooftop with them. Yes, they would have to make a new life for themselves, but their parents would see them through the newness of it. It was a somewhat sad event, but so full of adventure and hope as well, for the newly released sparrows. I counted myself blessed for having seen these things today, and for the reminder to take time to notice the world, not just human busyness.
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