Magic Moments

 In late summer and into the fall, all kinds of birds who aren’t normally here show up.  They are passing through on their annual migration.  They stop by like we do at a gas station when we are on a road trip.  They come to stock up, eating berries, insects, and all the food in the feeder.

I like to think of our yard as a rest stop for them.  A fun hotel with a waterpark.  They have a snack, a drink, a bath, and some playtime.  Isn’t that what we all want when we are travelling?  And they meet new friends.  Friends who already live here and some who are also passing through.  Sometimes they get along, and sometimes they fight.  But like little kids, they work it out.

Sometimes the tourists stay for a few days, and sometimes they are here for an afternoon and then are on their way.

A couple of years ago, a flock of bohemian waxwings came to visit on a Sunday afternoon.  Waxwings are beautiful birds.  They look like bandits, with masks on their faces, but also so elegant.  Maybe the Zorros of the bird world?  There must have been at least 50 of them.  They would rest in the huge poplar trees next door and then come to our yard to enjoy the waterfall.  Having a drink, splashing around, and just generally having a marvelous time, they would go back to the poplar trees to rest, and then come back.  It was amazing to watch.  And even more amazing to be a part of.  I decided to get my camera and see if I could get any pictures.  When I came out they all headed next door for the safety of those tall poplar trees, but I had a feeling they would be back, so I stood by the waterfall and waited.  Sure enough, in a few minutes they were back.  I kept very still, and they hardly noticed I was there.  My husband watched from the kitchen window.

It was an amazing experience.  Often the birds in the yard are skittish and very aware that I am there unless I am quite a distance away.  Not on this day.  If I got too close, they would move away, but if I was still, they carried on with what they were doing.

Later that year, in early fall, we had turned the waterfall off.  I thought it was time because the weather was going to cool off.  I always feel bad turning it off because the birds use it to drink and have a bath, but when my husband said “But what about the birds?” I said they would just have to deal with it.  They could drink and bathe in the dishes of water we have out for them in different parts of the yard.  One Saturday morning I got up, went into the kitchen, and my husband said “You have to see this.” I went to the window, and there, out in the yard, were birds.  This is not unusual at all, but they were sitting in what should have been a running stream, looking around, presumably wondering where the water was.  It was a sad, sad scene.  My husband said he would go out and fill it to turn it on.  I said no, that I would go. It was my idea to turn it off.  I should go out and fill it so they can use it.  (We aren’t very good at letting them just deal with it.)  There was a robin on the rocks in the waterfall so when I brought the hose over to fill it I tried to do it gently and quietly.  Somehow that little robin didn’t hear me.  She had her back to me, but still.  They don’t usually like us to get too close.  I backed up quietly and turned the hose off when the waterfall was full, then quietly went into the house to turn the switch on to start the waterfall.

Our waterfall is not a little trickle.  It is a stream with a pretty good current if you are a bird.  I turned it on, then quietly went outside to watch.  One robin on the grass somehow didn’t notice me.  I thought for sure the one in the waterfall would fly away as soon as the whoosh of the waterfall startled her.  She was pretty close to the top, and instead of flying away, she hopped to rocks further down.  As the water fell further and further down, she kept hopping further and further down.  Eventually there was nowhere else to go, but by then she must have gotten used to it because she stayed to enjoy it.

But something else happened when the waterfall started.  That big whoosh normally startles the birds and they fly away.  That day it had the opposite effect.  Birds suddenly flew in.  A woodpecker swooped into the yard, a flicker came in and had a bath.  All kinds of birds.  Sparrows, finches, pine siskins, robins… It was amazing.  Whoosh, and like magic they all came.

The robin on the grass hopped up into the dish of water in the garden.

And I stood still watching it all. I wanted so much to go in the house to get my camera, but I knew I would break the spell.  So, I stayed frozen in place, watching the safari of birds in our yard.  It was incredible.

Later, once everyone had settled in a bit, I did go get my camera.  And I got some wonderful pictures.

But that moment, just like the time with the waxwings, was magical.  Both of those days were a good lesson in being still, listening, and being present in the moment – something I freely admit that I’m not very good at.  Sometimes we can be part of something by just watching and listening.  And sometimes we may not even realize it until the moment is over.