We hadn't even unpacked the last box in our new home here in York when I excitedly hung a few feeders on that back deck. I was hoping to attract a sparrow, maybe a morning dove or two. Literally, within minutes of placing the feeders and suets in their chosen spots, the perches were filled with cardinals, blue jays, sparrows, goldfinches, nuthatches, titmice, chickadees, wrens, woodpeckers, and even an occasional bluebird.
I've had a blast observing my new feathered friends all spring and summer long, bringing their babies to the feeder and "showing" them how to get food for themselves (a few "mama's boys" still insist on HER feeding them!) and fighting over perches. But winter has brought a whole new fascination with these tiny creatures. It was twenty degrees outside last night. The wind howls, gusty and frigid. The snow has piled-up several inches deep, making their landings on the deck railing impossible. Still, they manage. They're here every morning.
I think of them as I bundle up; scarf, boots, hat, ridiculously heavy coat, all just to walk to the end of the driveway to retrieve the mail. All they have are feathers. Feathers and tiny, skinny legs and feet, completely exposed to the harsh elements. How do they survive? I watch as a big gust of wind kicks up, they brace themselves, growing puffier, heads down to absorb the blow. Day after frozen day. I'm amazed and humbled by these tiny, resilient creatures. The Bible says, "His eye is on the sparrow..." As I observe my stalwart, hardy friends standing their ground and surviving on my back deck, I believe with all my heart that this is true.
Suddenly, the treadmill really doesn't seem all that insurmountable...
Thanks for reading!!