This afternoon I was sitting at the kitchen table, alone, checking my e-mail and enjoying my momentary peace, when I looked up and saw a painted bunting at my bird feeder. It's not the first time I've seen one, but it hung around a while and I got to look at it pretty closely. They are beautiful birds.
I started noticing birds when I was pretty young. When we would visit my Granny and Papa we would sit at the breakfast table and watch the birds eat from their numerous bird feeders. Their patio was always full of flowers and wind chimes and plants that I learned the names of. Hen and Chicks were my favorites.
There were also dozens of birds. Many of them were just black birds, but there were hummingbirds and all sorts of other birds as well. My grandparents could usually identify most or all of them. They would flock to the tree shuffling around, looking for the best spot to eat. Jays and Cardinals would drive the others off temporarily. Occasionally we'd see one of the neighbor's peacocks or a deer. My parents once saw a wildcat sneak up on some big birds and pounce on one.
I don't have as many birds as my grandparents. I have seen deer and owls and even a fox in our yard, but they don't stay long. Nothing really stays long around here except for the fat squirrels who have discovered how to climb off the side of the roof onto my bird feeder to plunder the seeds.
Life gets very busy around here and I only occasionally get the opportunity to really sit down alone in the quiet of the house. For a moment today, I got to regard this beautiful bird before it flew off. Before I had to go put a baby back to sleep. Before the laundry begged to be folded.
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