Sometimes when I get tired of doing what I probably should be doing I turn to day dreaming. Then one of those day dreams may flag me down saying, "Blog about me!" So, I may consent and see what comes of it. What shall I write about now? The subject just came to me, as it usually does the minute I ask. But why feathers? Because if I were destined to come to earth next time in another species after my sojourn here as a human what species might I choose? I am quite sure I’d choose to be a bird.
Not a big bird but a smallish one that sings beautifully. I’d like to be a part of a community of its kind. I’d like to go to sleep at night in a tree where many others of my kind gather at twilight to exchange stories of our day and cuddle up on a branch next to others with our feathers all puffed up to shut out that day and say goodnight with a thank you to our bird-God for seeing us safely through.
I used to watch that happen on evenings when I waited for Wally G, my Marine husband. After a day’s work he was ready to serve as a counselor at the little white chapel on the Marine base at Cherry Point, No. Carolina. That’s when he’d talk with the enlisted men and women who needed some comfort after a hard day of drills and exercises meant to toughen them for real battles to come. They were young and strong but they were barely out of boyhood and the comforts of home and family were sorely missed. Wally was good at helping them find fresh acquaintance with God and the spiritual rest and assurance needed in that rugged path they’d fallen into. He’d been through those feelings, hiding pain and needing the comfort he himself was learning to find in the Holy Bible's spiritual refuge.
I, on the other hand, would have had a busy day myself as a mother of three, keeping house, laundering clothes, cooking, taxiing kids to music lessons, ball practices, gymnastics and such. Only a homemaker mom can know how many are the little and large tasks that confront a mother’s day. My relief often came in the form of finding a peaceful place to day dream. A few minutes would do it. That small sanctuary of time waiting in the car with the windows down gave me nothing more to do than watch the birds settle into the big tree across the path and listen to them as they exchanged accounts of their day in lively bird chirp fashion. Or were they merely jostling for places? I’d wish so much I could know! What was it that animated them so? The tree was fairly alive and jumping!
Then gradually, stories told, positions claimed, things would quiet down until only a few chirps could be heard. At last, though I couldn’t see them, I knew their little heads were being tucked under their wings because all the urgency and excitement was toning down except for those few who had to get in the last word. Then I got a taste of the meaning of serenity! What peace!
I wish I could find a tree like that again where birds gather to spend the night. I felt privileged just to be there listening and watching and feeling a-kin to the feathered flock. Maybe if I could find such a tree again the birds would tell me their secrets. What is it like being a bird?
Tommy, my canary, has been with me for nearly five years and he hasn’t been able to tell me even though I’ve asked him over and over. But he does greet me with a special double chirp when I come home. And he talks to his image in the little cage mirror and at times even scolds that fellow. If I’ve forgotten to bring him his afternoon apple treat he lets me know with a repeated chirp that sounds increasingly demanding.
Dogs seem to do best at communication with humans. But I don’t want to be a dog. To be honest, not even a bird. But I’d love to feel a little more a-kin to Tommy and if I could sing like him? Now that would be a feather in my cap! Somewhere in my yesteryear I heard a man at a county fair who could do that. I was so impressed! Does anyone imitate bird song nowadays? If so, why haven’t I heard them on U-Tube or anywhere?
Time to stop day-dreaming. It’s a quiet day here in my neighborhood. What are the others doing? Maybe I’ll find out at dinner tonight. Come to think of it, the dining room where we show up at five p.m. for dinner often sounds a bit like that bird-tree. Do you think for a minute a bird might wonder what we talk about? Or ask us in bird language what it's like to be human?
In a little while I’ll be wishing I could tuck my head under my wing to shut out the evening news on TV. If only I could find a tree where the birds gather for the night, I’d gladly go there and listen to their news instead of ours. And just think of how beautiful I'd be, already dressed. in the morning in colorful feathers that take me on a fly-by of the neighborhood!