Rebecca Carpenter

          Tiny tufts of clouds whirled above the lake in the cold morning air.  I peeked at the birdfeeders and saw a red-winged blackbird swinging precariously on the small feeder.  His body was contorted so that he could barely hang on and still pick seeds from the small openings.  He seemed content even though he looked awkward and too large for the feeder.

            Less than a foot away, a larger feeder, more suited to him, dangled from the stand.  At that one, he could rest more comfortably and still get plenty of nourishment.  I had observed him day after day only eating from the small feeder and ignoring the one more appropriate for him. 

            I pondered the reasons for his behavior.  Maybe he had found the small one first and remained because it was familiar.  Maybe his friends had been there so he joined them.  Perhaps he was afraid of attempting a new venture.  Possibly he thought that he did not deserve the larger feeder but needed to be uncomfortable because of his past actions. 

            That red-winged blackbird reminded me of how we can refuse to accept opportunities that are placed in front of us. Maybe we are afraid, feel unworthy, or are only there since we went along with the crowd.  We stay in situations where we do not need to be and miss the gifts that are before us.  I can’t change the behavior of that bird, but I can change my actions.

            My own private aviary enveloped me as I gazed in wonder at the visiting birds.  Still, spring air surrounded the lake and furnished the perfect setting.  Filtered sunlight glistened on the lake, trees along the shore, and greenery in my yard.  Loud calls of the male cardinal summoned his mate as he jumped from a bush to the feeder.  His brilliant, red color gleamed in the early morning light, and several minutes later his golden, brown lady joined him for breakfast.  A red-winged blackbird swung on the small feeder as he contorted himself to fetch the seeds.  For a few minutes he also beckoned to his mate with a distinctive call, but he was not as successful as the cardinal since she did not appear. 

            A spotlight of sun highlighted a large blue heron standing at the water’s edge in front of me.  His orange bill glowed above his muted, grayish blue feathers. He silently tiptoed a few feet and then zoomed to a tall pine tree across the lake.  His huge body seemed out of place on a bare limb hanging high over the water.  In only a few minutes, he heaved his body into the air and noisily notified the aviary that he was departing.  His cumbersome form was transformed into one of grace as he took flight and vanished. 

            Ambling up the oak tree was a familiar, yellow bellied sapsucker who was joined by a large, red headed woodpecker, who dwarfed his smaller friend, and sported a scarlet topnotch that blazed in the bright sunlight.  Perhaps the food was not to his liking because after only a couple of seconds he swiftly flew to the opposite shore and immediately began drilling into another tree.    

            A thin, white neck protruded above the bank as a great white egret sauntered soundlessly along the water, but his early walk ended abruptly when he ascended into the air with a boisterous, honking and departed quickly.  Silence was momentarily broken.

            Doves and unidentified, small brown specimens flittered from branch to branch with stops at the feeders which added to my bird watching enjoyment while a quartet of birds rested in my oak tree. 

            My daily list of tasks was postponed as I savored the beauty of the morning and my own aviary.  Earlier when I heard the cardinal, I remembered my goal of learning to identify more birds by their sounds.  The red-winged blackbird became my teacher as he emitted his call for several minutes while resting in the oak.  If I had hurried inside to tackle my list, I would have missed the tranquility of the lake, the splendid time with the birds, and my bird call lesson.  It was difficult to finally leave the peacefulness for the busyness of my day, but delightful memories would sustain me when I became weary.   

            A flash of white grabbed my attention as a great white egret landed across the lake.  Behind it was a large, white woodstork.  In tandem the two tiptoed silently in the shallow water near the shore as their reflections glistened on the dark water.  The egret would stop, stare at the water and strike quickly with its daggerlike beak to catch small fish.  Behind him, the stork stirred up the water with his feet and then submerged his dark head to search for food.  After traveling a short distance, the egret turned and retraced his steps followed by the woodstork.  While the woodstork’s head was under water, the egret took a few steps up the hill and lengthened his neck into a long, thin column.  His whole body rocked back and forth like he was dancing to a melodious tune.  He struck at something on the tree trunk and kept climbing up the hill onto the grassy lawn which was very unusual for an egret.  Oblivious to the departure of his friend, the stork kept feeding from the depths of the lake.  When the stork returned, they again headed off in the same direction with several yards between them. 

            I loved watching their quiet majesty as they followed their morning routine.  Each had his own method of eating, but the goal was the same as they proceeded on the same path.  They worked side by side but allowed each to do what he did best.  When we advance toward a common goal with others at home, at work, or at church, we can appreciate the special abilities and talents of every person without trying to make them all fit into the same mold.

            Gloom encompassed the lake like a shroud and pulled me into it.  Constant rain added to the depressing darkness.  The sun refused to even take a peek at the new day.  Dreariness entered the house while I moved from one chore to another with weariness.  There seemed to be no end to the work or to my drudgery.

            Where had these unwelcome feelings come from?  I usually felt pretty upbeat and positive.  However, looking outside only added to my glum mood.  After forcing myself to finish a few more jobs, I decided to stop and save the rest for another day. 

            I needed a break so I fixed a cup of tea, picked up my latest book, and retreated to my favorite spot on the patio.  I took a sip of tea and gazed out at the quiet lake.  The rain had stopped, but gray clouds still engulfed the sky.  I noticed movement in my oak and saw a trio of bluejays.  Instead of perching upright on a limb, one hung precariously on a tiny branch of leaves.  Excitedly, they jumped from limb to limb, flew away, and returned rapidly.  Their antics and blue color, though dark, added cheer to my day. My favorite bird, a scarlet cardinal, paid only a brief visit to the oak but also brightened my day.  Across the lake, a large blue heron stood in the water looking for a meal.  Occasionally, he would turn his head around and look towards me.  Was he checking to see how I was doing?

            Notifying me that the rain had ended, various chirps and tweets preceded the main attraction–a lovely song of melodious notes created just for me.  I had never heard such a sweet melody which went on and on for me to enjoy.  I searched for the singer with no success as the song floated across the lake.  I felt like I had been presented with my own private performance just to lift my dismal mood.  It certainly worked!!  Everything looked brighter, I felt more energy, and I was so thankful for my numerous blessings.  I may never hear that special song again, but I can always recall the magnificent gift when I become gloomy.

After being away on a cruise, I was delighted to be at home in my favorite spot overlooking the lake. The quietness was interrupted by a melodious song from a nearby bird. In the distance, blissful tunes contributed to the early morning serenade. Sunlight streamed through the trees and hit the mirrored lake. A single pink azalea remained from the summer, and purple Mexican petunias graced the bank. Their blossoms signaled a farewell to the summer. A continuum of green spread across the garden from the ground to the tops of the trees. Heavenly bamboo turned red as crepe myrtles dropped leaves signally the beginning of fall.
Autumn in Florida is not as pronounced as farther north but a slowdown in growth, lessening of color, and death of some plants occurs. Even though it is not my favorite season, I realize that fall is necessary to complete the cycle.
As I contemplated the changes, I was startled to a missing tree across the lake. It had been one of my favorites as it stood guard towering grandly above a small forest of pines. Its high limbs provided a resting spot for a variety of large birds. Some would sit for hours watching the lake. Others would remain only long enough to glimpse prey far below before snatching it. Still others would rest for a few minutes during a longer flight. No leaves obstructed my view of the birds since the tree had been dead long before we had moved to the area. I saw a grandeur in my special tree as it provided perches, hiding places, and homes for wildlife. Barren, uplifted limbs had proudly displayed its continuing usefulness and provided inspiration and comfort to me. I keep looking at the area and could not believe that my tree was actually gone.
I thought that someone had cut it down since it was no longer green and appeared useless, but Alan suggested that we walk to the peninsula to see what had happened to it. As we approached the area, we immediately noticed sections of a large tree laying across the floor of the forest. It had knocked down two apparently healthy pines. Sections of dead wood were scattered in a long line. Relief filled me as I realized that no one had cut it down.  A surprise awaited us as we turned to go. Another dead tree had also fallen and taken down two trees, but that tree was partially held up by the trees that it had destroyed. I was confused because I was not sure which tree was my special one. I had only observed one dead tree from my patio.
There was still a sadness that I would no longer be able to watch the procession of magnificent birds as they found a haven in the tree. No longer would the tree preside over the lake.  However, I realized that its demise was part of nature’s cycle just like the seasons. I do not like all of life’s changes but must learn to accept them and enjoy precious memories. It also reminded me that I should appreciate each season of life and cherish the present.
 

          High pitched tweets drifted across the stillness of the lake. Tiny chirps filled empty spaces. In the background I noticed sweet sounding trills. Then a deep blaring honk rose above the gentle music. Answering sounds echoed back and forth from shore to shore. Crickets added their clamor with a rising crescendo and then stopped abruptly. Across the lake another set of insects began their reply. The quiet that I first envisioned was actually a morning filled with diverse and pleasing sounds.
          A magnificent, white wood stork loomed just above the water in front of me, zoomed to the edge of the lake, made a u-turn, and gracefully touched down on the shore. His massive black tipped, white wings folded around his white body as he thrust his head into the dark water. His long beak snatched up tidbits while his body rotated around his head. His graceful flying certainly did not seem to go with his bumpy, homely face. or unusual manner of obtaining food. In a short time, he rose again into the air and vanished.
          Swaying branches of the weeping willow announced that it was not dead as I had feared. Emerging from the water were delicate, white, wild lilies. They stood next to purple Mexican petunias which I had planted from one enlarging specimen. The cut stems had multiplied and filled out the area. Amaryllis poked up near the willow. The bulbs had been separated from clumps given to me by friends many years ago. Wild, yellow lilies continued to grow and extend across the bank adding lovely color and greenery. Under the bird feeder a throng of sunflowers, which sprouted from birdseed, nodded their leaves as they prepared to bloom. Lavender lilies of the Nile towered over a miniature pine tree near the lake. Flowering dill stood regally where I had discarded seeds from my last crop. 
          My private sanctuary was filled with beauty as I began my day. It was a combination of my planting and nurturing but also filled with wonderful surprises. Some plants had been purchased in pots while others came from cuttings and seeds of established plants already in the garden. The plants that I had carefully placed were next to the wild ones that had arrived unexpectedly.
          Isn’t that like our lives? We may try to arrange everything very carefully and methodically but wonderful surprises can add beauty and meaning. If I waited for wild flowers to assemble in my garden, it would take a long time and probably have bare areas.  However, if I pulled up every wild flower that emerged, I would miss out on some special blessings. Interspersing the planned with the unexpected can enrich us and help us grow.

      I could hear them before I could even see them. Loud quacks pierced the early morning serenity. Bright sunlight illuminated the lake as five glistening specks rounded the island and came into view. As they drifted closer, I could make out their shapes and see the precision of their line-a brown mother duck and her four adolescent ducklings. Her commanding quacks revealed her authority, and there was no back quacking or disobedience. Each offspring acquiesced to her instructions and dutifully joined the procession.

      Yesterday, five white ducks had swum to my yard and began eating at the water’s edge. For over a year they had been appearing sporadically on the lake. At first, there were six, but one had been missing for quite some time. They all appeared to be siblings with no parent to lead them. In spite of that, they moved together and always arrived as a group. There must have been a parent with them when they hatched to protect them, guide them, and teach them. They must have been taught where to go, how to procure food, and how to remain together for protection. Because of their early training, they still exhibited behaviors which enabled them to have healthy, productive lives.

     Just as ducks work diligently to prepare their ducklings for adulthood by teaching them to listen, be obedient, and follow authority, human parents must also teach their children the same lessons. Perhaps the missing duck did not follow instructions and strayed into danger. Children who are allowed to ignore the teachings of their parents and take over at a young age will be headed for disaster. Mother ducks must prod and discipline wayward ducklings, but they know that the lessons are crucial so they do not waver or give up. Each mother continues with perseverance as her little brood grows and matures. What important lessons can be learned from watching the parents and offspring of the animal world.