Birds of a Feather

As I opened my eyes this morning and struggled with waking up and rising from my bed, I began to think of a subject to write about. It becomes more difficult to write a different subject to blog about after so many times. I began to hear birds outside my bedroom window and thought of the birds I’d seen in the past and how beautiful they were.

One of my favorite birds was the Baltimore Oriole that would build their hanging nest in the tall cedars in front of my grandparent Miner’s house. I would sit and watch these bright orange creatures with contrasting black markings weave grasses into a nest, then fly back and forth to feed their young.

Peacocks strutted when I was stationed in Orland, Florida. They would spread their tails in a Sally Rand fashion and make their raucous call heard all over the neighborhood. I’ve see some all white ones with lacelike tails dancing in the wind. They are beautiful, but the lack of color is less eye catching.

One type of bird that flies around my home that I am always to see is the gold finch. In German they are called distle fink, meaning thistle finch. Some people call them a wild canary with their brilliant yellow feathers and black markings.

Barn swallows swoop all summer long as I mow my lawn. It’s a beautiful sight to watch their graceful flight moving around capturing the insects I stir up.

There are occasional blue birds and hummingbirds that will make their homes somewhere near my house. Their colors are almost magical and always a welcome sight.

One bird whose fight always makes me either happy or sad. They will sing the same song as they make their annual flight overhead. In the autumn as the leaves tumble, A wedge of them will wing southward to warmer climes. The honking saddens me, knowing cold winter winds are close behind.

The same flock may wing their way northward in the spring, singing the very same song, but their honking brightens my day and puts a smile on my face, knowing that springtime is close. Just hang on, warmer weather is near.