In the Land of Tall Birds

The sound startled me. I had heard it before, but never so close and never so surprisely interrupting my ordinary day. It was twilight, too dark to see past the edge of woods from where the sound came, but no doubt about it….a turkey was near.

And then another day…I saw another bird…tall and gray, standing on its spindly stalk of legs. A heron, if my ornithology serves me right. Solitary birds for the most part it seems…always alone, at least in public. I find them almost daily in my neck of the woods, along the shallow water-filled ditches that line the roads to and from my house. Others are found standing in the swamp shallows along the roads heading to the coast not so far down the highway.

I like these big birds. And others that I see here: the buzzards that share breakfasts of road killed possums and the seasonal influx of hawks adept at clearing out a host of field mice. These birds can soar, or mind their business. In the late winter storms when winds howl, they sometimes seem to battle mightily to stay in the same place in the sky….like great sky-watchers providing security for sacred ground. These birds provide comfort when I see them. They remind me to enjoy the place where I am. They remind me that even in the most shallow of places, nourishment can be found. They remind me of struggling against the forces that may be unseen, but upon which we can soar if we so choose. They remind me of the grace of God that provides for their needs as He does mine. If that turkey keeps hanging around, I might be tempted come thanksgiving to…well, you know what I’m thinking. Maybe its right to understand that what looking at the birds is good for is to teach us things that aren’t just for the birds.