You might be a crazy old bird lady...

My dad has always taught me to notice the little things around me, especially in nature. We camped and hiked a lot when I was young and he would always be quick to point out a hawk high up in a tree or several deer or pheasant on the edge of a wooded area. So now I naturally notice those kinds of things everywhere I go.

I think this is why I am so fascinated with birds. I begged my dad for a pet when I was little. He never wanted us to have a dog because he felt they need a lot of room to run. He hates cats with a passion (sorry Teri). And I had no desire for smelly rodents. So one year for Christmas, when I was about 8, he bought me a little bird cage. We went to the pet store together to pick out a little parakeet. I chose one similar to this little guy:

http://www.thelensflare.com
Someone told me that if I wanted him to learn how to talk, I needed to give him a name with a lot of the letter "p" in it. So my brilliant self named my new little bird Pepper! Needless to say, he never even came close to saying anything but "SQWAK!!!" I loved my little bird and found great joy and mystery in watching him.


Somehow almost 20 years later, I reluctantly became the care taker for a 2 year old Umbrella Cockatoo named Presley. What an overwhelming task that was at times! What an amazing bird he was!

He on the complete opposite side of Pepper talked way too much! His personality was that of a learning 2 year old child. I loved him and was blown away by his human-like expressions and characteristics. I could watch him and be thoroughly entertained for hours.

I promised myself that I would not become a crazy old bird lady like the one I bought Presley from. However, I find myself looking out my back window waiting to see what kind of bird will eat from my 3 bird feeders in the back yard. Somedays I think I could watch them all day.

So many things about birds are amazing. Their tiny little fluffy bodies that can stand heat and cold. Their many different calls that each mean something very specific. Their migrating in the winter in huge flocks, flying hundreds of miles, then returning in the spring to the place they started. Their balance. Their eyesight. Their voices' volume. Their resiliant yet delicate features.

This morning I was fixing my breakfast when I heard an unusual call. It made me even more ready for spring that I could hardly get to the window fast enough to see what it was. I had noticed a bright red male cardinal eating from one of the feeders earlier this week, but I knew that wasn't his call. When I looked out the window I saw this proud little male red winged black bird. He was hanging sideways off the feeder, pacing back and forth claiming his territory. He was calling out as loud as he could to anything that would listen to him, letting them know that this was his feeder!


Now I'm pretty sure blackbirds aren't the most desirable birds to have in my backyard, however I can't help but look at him and see his beauty. The red on his wings is amazingly brilliant. He stretches and pumps his wings flaunting his color, warning those who can see him not to mess with him. He might be a bully, but I can't help but be amazed by his ability to communicate in detail through his many different calls and body language, and by the incredible detail God has given to him. And I can't help but be reminded of the very specific detail that God has given my life. I see it now more than ever. Doesn't God care more for me than for the birds of the air?

I'm totally a crazy old bird lady!