Gone to the Birds...

There are herons in the pond,

Kildeer crying in the air;

Hummingbirds at the feeding station

And songbirds everywhere...

And I say to myself, "What a beautiful, most wonderful world."

I have been watching spring work her magic... a leaf here, a bud there... oh!  and over there the tulips and daffodils are in full bloom bringing their colors to a cold and austere-looking land.  I was wondering for a while whether they would make it out of the cold, cold ground but they were just little things one day and the next day, it seemed, they were up and showing their beauty and the promise that another spring had arrived on the high desert.  We who were weary of the wait just needed to have a bit more patience.  

We--my husband and I--are weeding the lavender and trimming back some of the varieties.  Weeds, like time, wait for no man (or woman for that matter).  While outside, on my hands and knees, the trill of a meadowlark caught my ear.  I sat back on my knees and listened to the sounds of the morning:  the quail were in my neighbor's yard across the way and the ravens gave their cacophonous sounds as they flew over the next door neighbor's pasture.  High up in the heavens were two hawks, facing one another flying with their wings outstretched, their talons together crying their high pitched battle cry as they flew almost upside down. As I walked to the house, I saw a kildeer by the pond.  Coming closer than I should, it scurried forward and gave its high-pitched call and scurried some more.  A couple weeks ago, three kildeer were flying over the lavender calling to one another and, perhaps, summoning the remaining two (for a total of five kildeer) who we had last year.  I believe they are making another nest in the lavender but I haven't found it yet.  I suppose that a nest of baby kildeer is good enough reason to leave a patch of weeds in the lavender.

The other morning, I had a blue heron in the pond, standing so still that I would have missed him if he had not turned his head when I opened the door.  I ran for the camera and  tried to take a photograph but scared it away.   In the willow tree near by the pond, songbirds--mostly sparrows--sang their sweet, sweet melody.  They come down to the creek, along with the robins, to take a drink and a bath.  I spend many quality minutes watching them as they frolic in the water.  A friend of mine told me hummingbirds stayed all winter in her neck of the woods and she leaves a feeder out all year, bringing it in only at night when it freezes.  I decided to try that this year.  Usually, I put the hummingbird feeders out on April 15--tax day.  There's just something satisfying in putting those feeders up on that day:  my way of turning the page from a past necessity to a present liberty for another year.  I was wonderfully rewarded a few days ago at seeing a scraggly little hummingbird come to the feeder and stay for the longest time.  I wondered how far he must have flown to look so rough and I was glad the food was ready for him.  He has not been back, to my knowledge, but I think of him every now and then and wonder where he is now.

A glimpse of a bluebird flying over the dry lot caught my eye a couple days ago.  They are such pretty little birds.   And, today, a friend heard a meadowlark off in the distance, singing its pretty refrain as we were getting into the car.  "What is that" she asked.  I answered.  We listened, my friend and I.  And in the distance, the pretty little bird identifiable by its yellow breast and "V" breastplate sang as it welcomed spring.

Spring has indeed worked her magic: in the budding of the trees, in the kaleidoscope of color and bounty of flowers and in the beautiful songs of the birds.  And I say to myself, "What a beautiful, most wonderful world."