Chickadee Grief

I am grieving a crippled chickadee, whom I last saw on Monday, March 8. Her wings were fluttering that day, as if she had lost even more mobility in her legs and toes. For a month, she had been skooching on the deck or railing like a double amputee in India sitting on cardboard and propelling himself with his hands.

That Monday morning, she was hanging upside down by her toes. In previous days, I had seen her grip a branch or wire with both toes and slowly slide backwards until she was upside down. She would flutter her wings to bring herself back to upright. She repeated these chin-ups five or ten times. She was panting; I could see her back wing feathers move up and down two or three times a second.

That last morning, I put sunflower seeds in the coffee grinder and ground them finely. She didn't seem to have the leverage to peck a sunflower seed to bits. Usually a chickadee holds a sunflower seed between her two feet and pecks and pecks at it. Chickadee beaks are very small. Other birds swallow sunflower hearts whole, but the chickadee breaks it into bits and eats the bits.

Her handicap enabled me to distinguish one chickadee from the dozen that visit our birdfeeder, distinguish her from the two or three chickadees that eat out of my hand.

I knew the end was near. I didn't see her the rest of that day. I kept looking for her all week. Then I had to admit she was gone. Gone.

The next day the weather was warm. Oh, if only she could have lived to feel warm weather. Had her feet frozen one zero degree night? I would never know.

I try to assuage my grief with various stories. Already she has returned to earth somewhere. Already some creature has eaten her corpse. Already she has been incorporated into owl or possum. The life cycle has moved, and I am stuck in missing her.

Taming a Nuthatch

My sweetie is training chickadees to eat out of his hand. Today a nuthatch picked sunflower seeds out of my open hand.

I had to brag that i was the first on the block to hand-feed a nuthatch.

What is it about being the first on the block to....? 

It's fun to brag. I've had this experience, and you haven't. I've got this new toy, and you don't. 

Bragging is a way to reify the self. For a moment, and it is only a moment, i feel better than, superior to that other person because.... I'm so special. For a second or two.

And then the nuthatch flies away.

Winterberry Feast

 

The winterberry shrub is becoming a bird and squirrel feast. Today several chickadees were eating the berries. Then a squirrel visited.

That wallflower of a shrub is the center of attention now that December has arrived. What fun to look out the kitchen window and see surprise visitors eating to their heart's content.

What contents our hearts? What contributes to our contentment?

Contentment is wishlessness--not wishing for anything different than what is. When we eat to our heart's content, we are satisfied. One definition of dukkha is dissatisfaction.

Look around you right now. What satisfies you? Our negativity bias wants to focus on dissatisfaction. 

Calm down and look at your environment right now. Temperature? How does sitting feel? Desire for food? In a lot of ways, my heart is already content. Simply notice that.

Pocketbook Birdhouse

We decided to increase our number of birdhouses a few years ago, so when i see an interesting homemade birdhouse, i buy it.

Last year, at a farmers market, a woodworker had several unique birdhouses. I bought the one made out of an antique wooden pocketbook (I'm guessing it's from the 1940s). A wren has taken up residence. (Notice the stick sticking out of the hole.)

I hung the birdhouse at eye-level, and any number of people walk right by it without noticing.

This birdhouse is delightful. How much ordinary delight do we walk by every day and fail to notice?

Stop. Look. Listen.

Delight is all around.

CARDINAL IN SNOW

 A crimson cardinal perches in a snow-covered apple tree, considering whether he will fly to the bird feeder. Chickadees flit from tree to feeder and back again; they are not shy. But the cardinal is a shelf feeder, and this bird feeder is for perching birds.

Nuthatches--which my partner calls upside-down birds--hop up or down a nearby wild cherry tree. Gravity doesn't seems to concern them.

The cardinal launches himself toward the house and grabs a bite to eat.

I smile. Winter bird-watching feeds my own joy.

Seed Savers

One morning last week, my sweetie and i were sitting outdoors in the hot tub when a nuthatch lands on our board-and-batten sided house. He pecks at the siding a few times.

Odd, i thought. Is he looking for bugs, as the woodpeckers do? In this cold weather?

Then he extracts a sunflower seed from between a batten and a board.

Aha! He uses our house to "bank" his seeds, so that when he's hungry, he can make a withdrawal from his savings account.

Now when i hear a light tap-tap-tap (3 taps) on the side of our house, i smile because i know the nuthatch is making a deposit into or a withdrawal from his seed-savings account.

Who is Freeloading?

My sweetie is training the chickadees to eat sunflower seeds out of his hand. This has the side effect of the chickadees eating out of my hand too. Such joy!

We give the chickadees a handout. Why is it so much easier to give them some food than it is to give to the panhandlers in town?

A friend who works with the homeless says she never gives money, but she might offer a snack of some sort. Sometimes, i buy an extra bag of chips so that i can give it to a panhandler near the grocery store. I also quiz him on whether he's had lunch at the church. Two churches in town offer lunches 5 days a week. The Overnight Shelter offers supper 7 nights a week.

Freeloaders irritate us. Freeloading goes against the grain. How do we distinguish between freeloading and genuine need?

We are confident that the chickadees are not freeloading. If we didn't have an opinion about the panhandlers, we wouldn't be stressed by thoughts such as They're freeloading. He should get a job. Get away from me!

We are the ones who are uncomfortable, yet we blame our discomfort on "them."
When we feel joy, we "blame" our joy on them--the chickadees.

Can i treat the next panhandler as a chickadee, give him a little bit to eat, and feel the joy of my generosity?

The Goldfinches are Gold

The goldfinches just turned yellow while i wasn't looking. Last week, they were dressed in olive drab. This week, the males are decked out in their finest yellow.

Change is happening all around us. We are hard-wired to notice potential threats. Meanwhile, a raft of changes happens under the radar. Like the goldfinches turning gold.

This lovely change brings happiness in many ways.

• the color is brilliant
• the change means spring!
• the goldfinches are flocking
• the goldfinches are singing

Open your heart to unnoticed happiness.

Scarlet Tanager

A scarlet tanager landed on my deck and hung around for about 5 minutes. Wow! Tanagers are treetop birds that i hear every day, but this is only the third time in 35 years that i've seen one.

We hear or read the teachings of the Buddha, but when an insight comes, an insight that transcends mere knowledge, an insight that, though brief or even very brief, is known with the whole body, all you can say is Wow as tears of joy flow from your eyes.

Veery Flute Duet

The veery is my favorite bird here in the North Country. It looks like just another brown bird--it's a small thrush. But its song is heavenly--it sounds like a trilling flute.

Some summers i can hear the veery on my neighbor's land. This year, 2 veerys have taken up residence very near my house, one on each side of my lawn. Oh, my. A flute duet every early morning and every late evening, right here. Actually, since a single veery sounds like a duet all by itself, two veerys sound like a flute quartet.

Hearing the Dharma is another kind of sweet sound. It has so much common sense and so much uncommon sense at the same time. What a duet!

This coming Sunday I'm giving a talk on verse 5 of The Dhammapada.

Hatred never ceases through hatred,

But by love alone is healed.

Another way to say this is "Hatred begets hatred. Kindness begets kindness."
Still another way to say it is " Throwing a hot potato at someone invites them to throw a hot potato back at you." Now, why would you do that? Yet we all do it frequently.

I listen to the lovely sound of the veery singing 2 notes at the same time in the woods.

Bird's-Eye View

Yesterday, i went for lunch to a friend's third-floor apartment. The window beside the kitchen table looked out on a budding maple tree, which made me feel like i was in a tree house. Those buds and tiny flowers are beautiful up close--30 feet up in the air. A real bird's-eye view.

If we had a bird's eye view of our life, how would it look? Encased in our five or six feet of skin, flesh, and bone, it all feels up close and personal. Very I-me-mine.

But what if we could look at that person walking down the street in our body or driving a car from an altitude? What if we could see the big picture?

Hmmm, we might say. She's so worried, so busy in her own mind, and she's really missing the beauty all around her.

Like the spring green springing forth Like the budding maple trees. Oh, joy! Joy is right here.

A Fed Bear is a Dead Bear

While i was at meditation group this morning at the neighbor's house, a bear ambled through the woods near our house.

Another neighbor who was out for her morning walk managed to take a couple of photos with her mobile phone.

I have no doubt that the bear was checking the ground underneath our birdfeeder. We only put a handful of sunflower seeds out at a time on our second-story deck, but i see the birds flicking seeds here and there. I know some wind up on the ground underneath the deck.

A fed bear is a dead bear. This means i have to stop feeding the birds. Whether my sweetie also stops feeding the birds is another question.

How do we subtly "feed" the bear of a problem in our lives? We tell ourselves stories about that other person who rubs us the wrong way, and then we believe the story we have told ourselves. It's time to stop. Stop telling our self that story. That bear of a problem person exists only in our minds. And it's really time to stop. Just stop. Stop feeding the bear.

Juncos in the Christmas Tree

The birds are loving the Christmas tree that provided my "instant landscaping" near the front door. I see juncos hiding in the balsam fir, looking for protection from winter winds and high-flying hawks.

We too are subtly looking for protection as we go through our daily lives. We want to be safe, and we do this by going places we know and being with people we know via texting or phoning.

We could simply be safe in the here and the now, in the unk-now-n. Because every moment is new.

Really every moment is unknown. And we are safe.

Photo from ohio-nature.com

A Little Birdie Told Me

My sweetie and i have different methods of hanging clothes on the clothesline: i drape the clothes over the line; he uses clothespins.

Returning from vacation, he finds a bird nest with 3 little eggs in the clothespin bag, so today he's draping the clothes over the line.

The ego wants to own the right answer. How many little squawks have we had?
"Cheryl! Use clothespins!"
"No, i don't need to."

How he hangs up clothes is none of my business, even if they are "my" clothes.
How i hang up clothes is none of his business, even if they are "his" clothes.

Here's a poem by e.e. cummings. Maybe we could substitute "hanging up clothes" for "poetry"?

"Poetry is being, not doing."

Poetry is being, not doing

If you wish to follow

even at a distance

the poet's calling,

You've got to come out of the

measurable doing universe into

the immeasurable house of being.

Nobody else can be alive for you -

Nor can you be alive for anyone else.

If you can take it -Take it and be.

If you can't—cheer up and go about

Other people's business and do or undo

til you drop.

 
--e.e. cummings