Brrrr…ds of a Feather
Chickadees are winter birds that play among the pines, or barren twigs bereft of leaves of stark blackberry vines.
They always wear a little cap against the biting cold and never venture out without their mufflers on, I’m told.
Mother’s Love
Little spotted fawns, watchful mother doe, sweetest forest family that I know.
Faintly twitching ears, alert to all she hears, quick to see if any danger nears.
Stubborn spindly legs not budging, nosed along by Mother’s nudging, sampling tender leaves that grow on nearby branches hanging low.
Calm and careful yet not fearful, simply mindful, softly munching; patient, waiting, gently tending ’til they safely finish lunching.
One last look, she scans the scene then gathers up her kids with ease and disappears behind the trees.
Artwork adapted from detail of screech owl illustration by John J. Audubon
Lullaby
The sweetest sound I ever heard is neither song nor spoken word but whispered sigh of one lone bird that murmurs prayers when darkness falls–a rising, falling, plaintive call.
The memory of it moves me still, something between a cluck and trill that echoes from the blue spruce trees. A chortling cry that sends a thrill straight to my heart to lend it ease and lulls my anxious mind to rest and slumber at screech owl’s behest.
This is the sound I love the best.
