This morning brought bird watching for pleasure. Our first flock of geese migrated home to Michigan. Their song descending like laughter on the wind. Two crows came along, arguing like crows are want to do… And two wild canaries came writing like yellow crayons across the patches of snow. Even the starlings with their yellow bills and beady eyes have their sights on Spring.
The turkeys have found our tree. There was a partridge last year but he is too late to the feast this time around. The gobblers are neither shy nor subtle, they leave little in their wake but broken twigs and excrement. The thousands of little red apples are history. At least I won’t have to trim the tree next summer, they did a pretty fair job.
Sleigh bells and chickadees are Christmas music in the Amish Countryside where I reside. Come every Saturday and Sunday their mighty horses are hitched and we hear the clip-pity clop of their hooves added into the musical mix. It is a sound of joy that reverberates with holiday thanks for all the blessings bestowed by bird and beast.
This joy is unadulterated poetry. It is the heartbeat of nature. It is Merry Christmas.
*************************************************************************************************************Richard Rensberry, Author of “Kirtland’s Warblers” children’s book, a rhyme for young readers available in paperback on Amazon.
December, for Nature’s artists, is a pristine white canvas and Michigan is abundant with an array of colorful artists with feathery brushes. Cardinals are my favorite, closely followed by the chickadees and nut hatches. Even the greedy and raucous bluejay is a winter scape Monet. And how about those redheaded and crenelated woodpeckers? Crazy Picassos in the wild.
Ribbons of perfect corn
roll over the hills and stretch for miles
devoid of milk, pig
and other weeds. Rivers of Roundup
Ready beans undulate
pest free in the summer breeze. Acres
of sunflowers Continue reading →