The joy of the birds is something to imitate

I recently started a long-term kind of experiment, in the natural science realm.

It’s quite simple really and only involves a few easy-to-find supplies. I started by taking a small ice cream lid and duct taped it to a pair of sunglasses. Then I found a bag of bird seed, which I sprinkled on the lid. And then, as quietly as possible, I tiptoed into the backyard and found myself a perch. I wrapped myself entirely, put on the sunglasses, and waited.

Day 1 of the experiment was disappointing. It felt as though the sun dropped and the temperature went down as soon as I found a good spot. But I still sat for about 40 minutes, as still and silent as possible. There were birds that came and went in the trees around me, but I felt that I missed rush hour. To top it off, I had chosen a weighted blanket to wrap myself in, and to sit totally still with 16 extra pounds distributed in awkward places meant that I woke the next morning with knots in my neck and back. Alas.

Day 2 was better. There were definitely more birds about, but the spot I had chosen wasn’t ideal. My back was exposed, and I could hear scuffling behind me. A terror went through me at the thought of a squirrel climbing up my back and sitting on my head to eat the seeds. Squirrels always eat the birds’ seeds, so what would stop them now? Sure enough, it was a squirrel, but it never made contact, thank you, Lord. I watched it climb onto the roof and stare at me.

Day 3, I decided to take the chair off the deck and sit in the yard, facing a busy tree. Birds were flying closer to my head that day, and I started to feel a little hope, until a pair of mourning doves landed about 10 feet away and started hopping towards me. Now I had the thought of these two with their little talons biting my legs. I scuffled my foot and they left.

I came out later for a fourth attempt and sat for maybe half an hour. I will say that this is a real exercise in silence and stillness. It could easily be made into a spiritual experience if it weren’t for the squirrels. I did somehow manage a rosary. Maybe that’s why I was spared the claws in my head. But I still got a foot cramp.

So Day 4 came, and I looked out the window to see birds in their glory. Our yard had flocks of little winged creatures landing and scavenging and bathing in the puddle on top of our hot tub. I quickly finished up the math lesson I was doing and gathered my supplies, determined that it would be my day of triumph.

Well, I’ll spare you the buildup: no birds landed on my face, but the hour I spent in stillness was absolutely not wasted. I don’t know if it was the time of day or the weather, but I felt like I snuck into a private bird party. Behind my head were the juncos, flying to and from the grapevine. Chickadees and swallows were everywhere, pairing up and flying in circles, in and out of the yard. There were bushtits, hummingbirds, and even a few crows. Birds were everywhere, and the symphony that surrounded me actually made me laugh into the blanket! A bald eagle was circling above the park across the street. I felt such a simple, childlike happiness just sitting there silently watching this dance surrounding me. I felt like I was in Cinderella.

I looked up and saw what seemed to be a large pigeon landing on a branch directly opposite me. As it stared at me, I began to think that it seemed awfully large for a pigeon. I slowly lifted a finger to slide my sunglasses down just enough to discover that it was actually an owl. (That owl has been in our yard every day this week.)

So no bird landed on my face, but two did fly close enough that their wings touched the blanket. I have high hopes for Try 5. But in the meantime, the delight I experienced in being allowed to witness the freedom and seeming joy of these little creatures filled my heart up to overflowing. Not one of these would fall to the ground without our Father’s will, and yet we are of more value to him than many sparrows.

As I sat there in a small, glorious moment of birds’ natural worship I wondered at the times we are in. There is sorrow and frustration, confusion and anger. Many of us feel lost as we seek out the freedom that makes us human. The song of those birds spoke out to me, “Stay the course. Find joy, be free, rejoice, and worship with those who take delight in the gifts of God. ‘Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, at thy altars, O LORD of hosts, my King and my God. Blessed are those who dwell in thy house, ever singing thy praise!’ (Ps 84).”