There is a turf war going on in my neighborhood, and it has pitted brother against brother. It cuts across color barriers. It involves blacks, browns, and reds. I am referring, of course, to the birds in my yard.
One morning a couple of male robins appeared to be fighting. They swooped through the air, one chasing the other like he meant business. Maybe they weren’t really fighting, but it didn’t look like a friendly game of “chase.”
I have birds of varying colors and sizes that look to my yard for food and shelter. I am happy to share what I have. I admit, I don’t know much about birds, but I like to watch them from my window.
My younger brother—who has been a birder ever since I can remember—is rather jealous of the number of birds that frequently congregate in my yard and trees.
Bird watching is new to me. I don’t really have the eye-sight for it. My afore mentioned brother has better than average vision—at one point it was tested at 15/20. However, given that the view is right outside my window, it seems wrong to waste the opportunity to learn something new.
The most exciting find this year is that the cardinals are back.
Last year, they had a baby, but I think a cat made a meal of it. One day baby was in the nest and the next, it was gone. A neighborhood cat had stalked the cardinals early last summer, so he knew it was just a matter of time before lunch was served.
This year, the cardinals are a little higher and right outside my kitchen window. I have even managed to get a few pictures of mother cardinal. Father keeps lookout perched on the clothesline post. I feel this strange excitement when I see them. I am honored they have chosen much shrubbery to call their home. I hope this year’s baby survives.
The cardinals’ return reminds me that life is fragile, and, yet, enduring.