Wednesday, August 24, 2011

A Wild, Feathered Flock

There is a wild, feathered flock after my chicken food. Blackbirds, aren't exactly the headliners of the bird world. The headliners of the resident flock of blackbirds have to be these noisy, bright "yellow headed blackbirds."

The other day I was talking with a friend about what one of God's creatures we would like to come back as, if there is such a thing as reincarnation. We both decided we would be birds.
I am not the "flying" type. The cowgirl I worship the most is kind of like a bird in that she has a need to fly; a fascination for all things that fly; and a spirit that begs to soar across a big blue sky with no boundaries or roads to define her course.
I enjoy birds of every feather, in every season, but I cannot say I am like a bird in that there is any need for me to fly. However, in spring, when they return from distant lands to compete for mates and breed, I cannot help but admire them for their boisterous activity, bright colors and rainbow of sounds.
My attraction is not so much in their unique ability to fly or tweet. It is more that they are so driven by pure instinct. It would give me comfort to just "know" when it was time to move on for the season, or mate, or sing.
Also, it would be nice, if I was startled and had to fly, and my flock of feathered friends followed me, and it turned out to be a false alarm, there would be no harm done. It was all for survival. It is better to be safe than sorry. The moment would be instantly forgotten and everyone would just go back to eating.
I have always been an "early bird," in that I am up with the birds. Around here, the birds wake about fiveish, with great commotion. No place I have lived, even the woodlands in Oregon, could compare to the decibel of their rejoicing over the rising of the sun.
They flit and fly from tree to tree, and then to the chicken yard. The swallows scoop mud for their nests and catch bugs. The robins fight. The chick-a-dees say, "cheeeseee buurr geer." Woodpeckers knock, knock, knock at the trees.

Everybody is busy.

On some mornings, a pair of geese can be heard behind the house as they try to make lift off, in the still morning air. You cannot help but notice and maybe cross your fingers with hope when the two honking bombers take off--it is a wonder they can get going at all. Then, in the distance, and sometimes mixed with the sound of coyote singing, is the unique call of these long legged sand cranes.
Being from the high desert of Central Nevada, I have almost no experience with the "water" birds I see out in the fields. Because they are "new" to me, I am fascinated. Of course, the headliners in my wild, feathered, flock of friends is the eagles, owls and hawks. The birds of prey always steal the show from the black birds, robins, woodpeckers, geese, cranes and miscellaneous water birds.
Of course the whole point of my feathered friends spring activity is to mate, build a nest and hatch a clutch of babies. Actually, I think I am going to have to change my mind about what creature I would come back as, if I could be reincarnated. I do not think I have the fortitude to sit through a beautiful spring day, just to keep some eggs warm. Anyways, here is to their amazing effort and their cute little bird babies.
As always, thank you for hanging around,
and reading The Dancing Tumbleweed Blog. 
May 24, 2011

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