It's amazing how a tiny thing can lift me up and connect me to everything around me.
Today it's a new bird song heard as I walk with the dog along the bike trail between Union Park and Maple. It's not going anywhere, so I can take the time to stop, get a bearing on from where the song is coming, maybe even see the bird.
Just minutes before, another new song had me doing the same thing. I did see the two birds, hopping after one another, singing to one another, through the very tops of the trees. They were small. I had no field glasses. So I could not identify them.
This one, however, was hard not to see, once my ears told me where to look. A Baltimore Oriole! It's yellow-orange markings blazing in the early morning sun as it hopped around in the top of a black locust tree. The presence of me and my dog did not deter it in whatever work or pleasure it was doing up there. Nor does the official name change for this bird to Northern Oriole touch me in the least. Once I hear the notes of that song, there's no mistaking it, and here it is, in the city. I can hope it will nest there next to the bike trail. Whether he does or not, the memory of this morning's treat is something I can return to in my mind, to slow me, and remind me, to stop, feel, see, hear, and be. Even only for a moment.
No comments:
Post a Comment