Ever since my daughter was very young, we’ve fed the birds.On her second birthday I gave her a bird feeder, a way to encourage her love of nature – she could watch it from her highchair out our kitchen window. It was an instant hit, squeals of delight as birds swooped in to investigate the new addition to our yard. That winter I became aware of the magic and beauty of birds. While I had intended this gift to encourage my toddler’s curiosity, it was an unexpected gift to myself as well. I can’t express the joy in seeing a bright red Cardinal or the vibrant blue hues of a Blue Jay; a welcomed splash of brilliance against winter’s gray backdrop.
As we’ve moved and grown into a family of four, the bird feeders are always present. I love that my kids enjoy seeing the various birds and their unique beauty and personalities. The quick, almost skittish Chickadees, the bossy Blue Jays clearing away any unwanted visitors. We’ve come to know the song of the Cardinal, we follow the flight of a mama Robin to her nest.
“The happiest people are the givers, not the takers.”
I consider feeding the birds a small gift – a token of appreciation to Mother Nature. Each time we fill the feeder, the birds clamor in the trees – a frenzy of anticipation for the fresh offering being presented. But in giving this small gift, I receive so much – their joyful songs, their antics as they dive and flit about. Through the depths of winter, they remind me that Spring will return. They fill me with hope as I observe their wings outstretched – alive in flight, as they appear to soar up to the clouds, to the realms beyond – reminding me that nature is always alive, always at work.