Thursday, August 20, 2020

Birds of a Feather Splash Together

The discipline of Christian life is mostly about learning to be still and listen. Timothy Radcliffe (Take the Plunge)


I glanced outside this morning and found quite a variety of birds splashing around in the birdbath we’ve got in the backyard. I’ve been filling it (and one out front) quite diligently all through the spring and summer, but this is the first time this year I’ve actually found it being used. I presume that perhaps fear of contracting Avian Flu has kept my feathered friends from gathering. I note, also, that this summer seems to have been cooler and wetter than usual.


In summers past, birds and squirrels always seemed to enjoy frolicking in the little concrete ponds we’ve got around the house. They’re generally pretty safe, and on those odd occasions a neighborhood cat sneaks into the yard, they’re up high enough (and out in the open) so they really needn’t worry about a sneak attack from the fuzzy felines that roam the green-scapes around here.


The only time the fonts are an issue is when some of the crows decide they want to enjoy a sip of the wet stuff. I don’t want to fat-shame the pudgy darlings, but a couple times they’ve toppled the bowls off the columns as they’ve set their plump rumps too close to the edge too carelessly.


Be that as it may be, I enjoy watching birds splashing around. I am fascinated by the sparkling water drops flying to and fro every bit as much as if they were being shaken off a dog coming in out of the lake. It is amazing how much water those dainty creatures can displace with their feathers. 




Picture Note: It was interesting (to me) that a variety of birds
could enjoy the bath without fighting or arguing.
Photo credit: Keith Axberg (2020)


If and when the bowl gets toppled, I simply go on out and set it back up and fill it again. It’s not that heavy, and I think word gets around about what the crows have done, so once they’ve toppled the font, they stay away for a while. I think the robins, swallows, and starlings make fun of them, to be honest, and I’m sure I’ve heard a humming bird or two go from humming to hee hawing on occasion. 


That can’t sit well with the Corvus Corax crew. They are surprisingly sensitive creatures, you know, and embarrass easily. They’re also quite smart. They warn each other when a car is coming, but sadly are often hit by pickups because they can’t say, “truck,” instead of “caw.” So when the other birds make fun of them they simply move on (as they have no caws to stick around).


People should be like that. People should be able to pick up and move on when things in life bug them or hurt them. Believe it or not, there are people on social media who have different views than me, and as we find the sites increasingly bombarded by political nastiness, I find I can either stick around and fight fire with fire (or toss water on the firebrands who burn me up), or I can simply scroll quickly past those I suspect to be less than correct. I choose the latter course.


I’ve only unfriended one person, and that was due to their attacking friends of mine. After repeated requests for them to be kind (and their refusal to do so), I unfriended and blocked them. I hated doing it because I honestly value hearing different perspectives. But I won’t abide nastiness (even among those with whom I am otherwise in agreement). So I have chosen to scroll past (quickly) so as to avoid them soiling the water in which I am cooling my feathers.


Timothy Radcliffe suggests we take time to be still and listen, and I think that’s a sentiment worth embracing. The problem with social media is that what was once intended to bring us closer together has become a megaphone from which we humans spew forth the ugliness of what’s on our minds and in our hearts.


Saint Paul tells us if it doesn’t build us up, or help build up the community, we would be wise to toss it overboard. If a wide variety of birds  can share the birdbath without squabbling in my neighborhood, maybe we can learn to share the blessings of our lives here in this, our valley, too.


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