Chirping Petunias

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This morning, as I’m running around doing some crazy cleaning in my loft apartment, something furry-like plopped right into a bed of petunias in my planter outside. Of course, I didn’t have my glasses on. So, to me it looked like a furry toad had just jumped into my bed of flowers. Yet, it was somehow able to fly (I’ve quite the imagination without my glasses). Still, I wondered what the heck is that?

A bird chirped loudly underneath the standing planter that held the little creature. It was bouncing up and down in a search for something all over the balcony. Chirp, chirp, chirp. It eventually flew away making that same loud chirping noise.

I crept slowly from the kitchen and into the living room to see what all the chirping was about. I got a better look once I was closer to the balcony door. Then, I could see it (whatever it was) still there and blinking slightly as if it were tired. It had a soft cotton-like material floating around it’s head, the kind of feathery material you’d see in a nest.

Right around Mother’s Day, I filled my planter with pink and white petunias, impatiens, violets, and what I call “fairy flowers.” I couldn’t wait this year to plant some blooms and set up my new hummingbird feeder, an airtight one.

I stepped closer to the little creature, curious why it hasn’t fled like the hummingbirds if I get too close. I slid my glasses on and in front of me was not a toad or a weird creature, but a little baby bird.

The other bird chirping madly must have been the little one’s mom. She was trying to see where it had went off to, not knowing the little stinker plopped just above her into a bed of petunias.

At first, I panicked. How am I going to help the mom find its baby when she just flew off? So I called my own mother for advice.

She told me not to worry, that “its a baby but knows how to fly. It got itself into that bed of petunias, it can get itself out.”

There was nothing to do besides watch and wait. I pushed my couch close to the balcony door and kept my eye on him. He must have been really sleepy because his eyelids fell over and over again. I couldn’t help but worry for him. I could hear the mother chirping around elsewhere. Why isn’t the baby chirping back? Does he not want to be found?

But then, a loud helicopter was above, and a man was mowing the lawn down below, making quite the loud noise together. The little baby’s eyes were wide. What a great day to learn how to fly, right little guy? I guess he had to learn eventually, and might as well be today.

When the loud noise was off in a distance I saw his mouth open, not like the real young ones, maybe he was yawning? Chirp little guy, chirp already so your mom can find you. But he just sat on top of those comfy petunias, content.

As I watched and drank my coffee, I could hear the mother’s chirping grow louder and more frequent. She’s trying to find you little guy! I knew what he had to do.

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Chirp, chirp, chirp he finally called back. I smiled sipping the last of my coffee. His wings flapped slow and uncontrolled. My cat watched him and jumped on the screen, kicking her feet and trying to discourage him. But he kept trying. He chirped back the same song  just like his mom. Then, he jumped and flapped his wings to the floor of the balcony.

He was just a little guy standing on his own two feet, petite beak, and bland-colored feathers. He bounced around, seeing his potential of being mighty. He sang and flew off into the wind.

The little bird got me thinking.

We are all born with wings, just like this little bird. We can choose to hide, or we can use our natural born wings and sing loudly. We can fly off with the soft summer breeze and grow stronger with each day forward.

Maybe this bird was simply taking a break from learning how to fly. Maybe he wasn’t actually lost from his mom. But I’ll remember him as the little bird chirping in the petunias that I planted last month. The petunias grew with each sunny day and each time I watered them, they grew more and more abundant.

It’s a nice reminder to see how far we’ve come. But it’s even better to know that we have wings and wherever we fly or hide, we always have the potential to get back up and fly on.

 

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Small joys in life: waiting for the hummingbird

As I grab my hot cup of coffee and follow the sounds of the many chirping birds outside my bay window that overlooks the city trees, I can’t help but be hopeful. The sun shines in and warms my body as the early, soft summer breeze flows through the screens of the window, cooling my coffee gently. The smell of rain still lingers from the night before, and reminds me how much I love nature. My favorite place in the world is sitting and watching the hummingbirds. Occasionally, a Robin will fly up close to my window and even the bees try to get at the sweet, homemade nectar from the window feeder. There is something beautiful in observing the sweet humming of a hungry little hummingbird.

I patiently wait and wait to see when the first hummingbird will take a sip from the feeder I had put out the night before. Word has it that they are back already, and I instantly grew excited, like a child on Christmas morning, when I heard this. So, the night before, I carefully poured a cup of sugar into four cups of water and boiled it, and then let it cool. Now, as summer is approaching quickly, I know I will see the hummingbirds soon, and I know they will be hungry. I’ve always had a passion for hummingbirds. I think it’s more of a caring sensation that overwhelms me because they are one of many little beauties in nature.

This small joy in life, waiting until I see the first hummer of the season, is truly what life is about. Sometimes its the small things in life that make us slow down and see what’s really important in life. And sometimes the small things in life are also the best things in life. So, here I am…waiting to see the first hummer of the season at my window feeder. Good things come to those who wait!

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(If you look closely, you can see the moth hummer near the middle on the left)

The First Sign of Spring

Lightly on my feet, I walk back from class

careful not to slide on the ice mother nature

so precisely mixed together when she warmed

the air early this morning. The bright sun beats down

on the roof tops, melting away the heavy snow almost

instantly. Drip, drip, drip goes the snow into water, crashing

into the ground. One by one, windows crack open, some jammed

at first, then swiftly comes in the early but fresh spring air.

Softly, a mourning dove perches on a telephone wire above.

I look up, stopping my pace just long enough for several breaths

to take in the graceful tune of this peaceful bird in nature.

It’s small head leans down as it may or may not be staring at me,

but still, it balances on that wire. And I continue on, staying

on the trail that was made by so many other footsteps, including mine.

Drip, drip, drip. The ice melts away and the snow inches closer and closer

to the edge of the roof. Soon the Robins will fly back, just in time to see

our colorful Easter eggs delicately decorated in pastels of purple, pink,

and baby blue. A fresh start. A new beginning.

A rebirth of our earth. Spring! It is a beautiful thing.