Our lives vacillate between remaining obscure and daring to be seen and heard. This is my constant struggle. In a way, both these states of mind help us draw boundaries without losing touch with humanity.
Very interesting and I too would feel sad for the nestling robins that were knocked out of their nest by a storm. Unfortunately, it happens. I once read that robin parents grieve by standing listless for a few minutes near the deceased nestling robins but then fly away to build another nest for their upcoming second brood of the season. Years ago in Central Park Manhattan I helped Blue Jays and Northern Cardinals survive a very cold and snowy winter. Every morning from November through April I took a bag of almonds to the park and placed some on the ground and waited quietly. At first they came and grabbed almonds quickly and flew to the trees. After a couple of weeks the Northern Cardinal pair would be awaiting my morning arrival anxiously calling to me from the steps that led into the park! The family of Blue Jays, five or six, would find me within minutes of my arrival asking loudly for almonds. Sometimes I’d move into an area of sparsely growing trees so the Blue Jays wouldn’t get scared off by joggers on the path. One Blue Jay would land on my hat and “talk” and another would land on the toe of my sneaker! They didn’t fly off into the trees anymore. They trusted me enough to eat within a foot of where I stood handing out more almonds to them. It was a lovely experience and I’m glad I was able to befriend such beautiful wild songbirds for an entire season when they truly needed help to make it through the snowy winter to the spring.
Our lives vacillate between remaining obscure and daring to be seen and heard. This is my constant struggle. In a way, both these states of mind help us draw boundaries without losing touch with humanity.
thank you Usha, that's beautiful 🙏🏻💖
Very interesting and I too would feel sad for the nestling robins that were knocked out of their nest by a storm. Unfortunately, it happens. I once read that robin parents grieve by standing listless for a few minutes near the deceased nestling robins but then fly away to build another nest for their upcoming second brood of the season. Years ago in Central Park Manhattan I helped Blue Jays and Northern Cardinals survive a very cold and snowy winter. Every morning from November through April I took a bag of almonds to the park and placed some on the ground and waited quietly. At first they came and grabbed almonds quickly and flew to the trees. After a couple of weeks the Northern Cardinal pair would be awaiting my morning arrival anxiously calling to me from the steps that led into the park! The family of Blue Jays, five or six, would find me within minutes of my arrival asking loudly for almonds. Sometimes I’d move into an area of sparsely growing trees so the Blue Jays wouldn’t get scared off by joggers on the path. One Blue Jay would land on my hat and “talk” and another would land on the toe of my sneaker! They didn’t fly off into the trees anymore. They trusted me enough to eat within a foot of where I stood handing out more almonds to them. It was a lovely experience and I’m glad I was able to befriend such beautiful wild songbirds for an entire season when they truly needed help to make it through the snowy winter to the spring.
How beautiful to be in such close relation with those birds, thank you for sharing ❤️