Stain Glass Lens of the 21st Century

Category: Birdsong

  • Why Write?

    Why Write?

    A few folks have asked me recently why I had stopped writing.  Perhaps it was the darkness of winter that had seeped deep into my bones resulting in a tiredness that weakened me.  Or, perhaps it was a winter sleepiness that, like a cloud of scentless poison, had lulled me into a dull haze.  I am not entirely sure.  It just felt that my small voice was no match for the looming issues facing us all.  

    Such issues as homelessness which seems to have grown into a global pandemic matched only by the surreal number of accidental overdoses and both pale in comparison to the global environmental catastrophes reported daily.

    It all had silenced me.

    Until early in spring, before dawn one morning I heard this lone bird singing a thin melody.  I stepped out in the predawn darkness searching skyward; no other bird had joined the song and yet, it continued to sing. Something in its refrain struck a chord deep within me, encouraging me to rise again and join my simple voice against the darkness.

    This courageous birdsong reminded me that there is still some worthiness in this worn out world.  There is beauty, kindness, and goodness still to be found; the world hasn’t gone entirely to rot.

    My voice may rise in a whisper offering little wisdom except the observation of what beauty I find.  As I recently read, “We do not see the world as it is, we see it as we are.” 

    May we all reside within a place that hears the little bird singing in the darkness of a beautiful world.

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

    Photo by lil artsy/Pixels

  • Lonesome Friendship

    Lonesome Friendship

    He arrives daily, usually just around supper time and makes his presence known by singing a low sad melody.  Dutifully I stop whatever I am doing and lay out fresh food with hopes he may stay awhile.

    His lonesome presence has become a part of my daily routine as I deliberately pay him attention; wanting him to know he is noticed, valued and precious in someone’s eyes. 

    His official name is Zenaida Macroura, many know him as a Mourning Dove; I have named him Bedad Kissimi (B.K. for short).  Bedad is an Old Testament name meaning, “alone or set aside” and once while visiting I was able to point Bedad out to a friend who shared that the name Kissimmi  is an Indigenous name that means ‘alone.’ So, this is how Bedad Kissimi came to be named.

    It isn’t clear why B.K. is all alone.  Presumably his mate has died but perhaps she tossed him out of the nest for spending too many late nights with his buddies or for leaving his dirty socks under the bed. It doesn’t matter; I am tired of the world’s judgements on others.  He has bravely made his aloneness known and I choose to respond with kindness, friendship and fresh birdseed. 

    His friendship has come to mean much to me, having him trust me is truly a privilege. At first he would stay in the tree top until after I had placed the seed and returned inside.  Now, he stays only an arm’s length away, we make eye contact most days as he tilts his head in gratitude.   

    In fact, I have wondered who is helping who.  I simply drop seed on the deck floor while he engages the strings of my heart! 

    As Charles Chaplin said, “He who feeds a hungry animal, feeds his own soul.”

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

    Photo from Aaron J. Hill/Pexels

  • Spring Has Stepped Outside The Door!

    Spring Has Stepped Outside The Door!

    Spring has stepped outside the door! And, in spite of the persistent north wind and accumulating snow it dances defiantly to the rhythm of birdsong, celebrating the lengthening of daylight while leaving crocuses and snowdrops in its wake.

    Signs of spring’s frolicking can be seen everywhere: Canadian Geese loudly announcing their return, Robins and Red Winged Black Birds bringing splashes of red to the dull tree tops and pussy willows courageously standing tall in the cold breezes.

    Spring is the most optimistic season of the year. It heralds warmer days, bright sunshine and fields of colourful wildflowers during the fickle days of March.  As columnist, Doug Larson writes, “Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe full of slush.”

    May everyone whistle a happy tune confident of spring’s stubborn tenacity.   

    Happy Spring Everyone,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel 

  • Why Do Birds Sing at Dawn?

    Why Do Birds Sing at Dawn?

    Photo by Andy Holms/Unsplash

    Some scientists have concluded that it is male birds who sing in the morning as a way of marking their territory and to announce their mating call.  Other scientists argue that both female and male birds fill the sunrise with song because they are simply announcing the good news that they have woke to another day; they are sharing this news with their mates.  And, there are those who claim that in the midst of the hot and humid summer months, when morning birdsong is at its loudest, it is because of the coolness of the morning and birds take advantage of these cooler temperatures to make their presence known.

    The poets have claimed that birdsong is nature’s poetry that is ruined once we try to capture and dissect it.  As Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “You must hear the birdsong without attempting to render it into nouns and verbs.”

    The birds may never give up their secret for why they fill dawn with song and poetry but that is okay.  As I grow older I am becoming increasingly comfortable with the not knowing.  I do not need to know why they sing, I am just grateful they do.

    Since day light savings time has begun, when we turned our clocks ahead one hour, Abby (my canine sidekick) and I routinely go out to the back deck just before dawn.   Some days, with a jacket pulled over my bathrobe, we take in the slowly growing chorus.  It begins each morning with the same bird and soon following his deep melody others join in.  At this time of year the choir isn’t big but we know it will grow steadily over the next few weeks.

    I am grateful for their trusted call each morning. Whether it be rain, snow or fog they raise their tiny voices in song and inspire me to do the same.  Despite waking to horrible news from Ukraine, or a discouraging snow fall through the night their song calls me to rise up and celebrate yet another day.

    As Maya Angelou wrote, “A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song.”  May this song inspire us towards brighter and warmer days that lie ahead.

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel