Spring bulbs transformed quickly into summer blooms and lessons from nature are coming fast and furious.
A few weeks ago I slowly realized that we had an Oregon Junko nest in our front yard! These are the sweet little songbirds with the dark hoods over their heads. I noticed that each morning when I was in the garden, a junco would sit in the same tree, in the same branch cheeping loudly. I have spent enough time in nature to know that he was trying to draw my attention away from something.
One day while playing my guitar on the bench in my front yard, I noticed a Junco parent sitting patiently on the branch with a beak full of food. I began observing more closely and saw that he would wait until I wasn't looking. Once I looked away, even if it was just for a few seconds, he darted under a lavender plant and walked under the foliage around the base of the plant to the nest. Then I could hear baby bird feeding sounds. When the feeding was complete, the parent would fly out quickly. The father always flew in one direction and the mother another.
One lesson from nature is about patience and right timing. How often do we have the patience and discernment to wait until the time is right for us to act?
Amazingly the nest was only 3 feet from our driveway and only about 8 feet from the road and it was on the ground! The lesson is that there can be potential danger around us, and we can live our lives. We must be cautious, but it is not necessary to be frozen. I know it would require higher math to calculate the number of times I have been sleepless with worry.
The final lesson from the Juncos is a very difficult one to recount, but, the story would be incomplete without it.
I composed a little piece of music on my guitar that I call "Junco Lullaby". It's a sweet, simple melody I played for the Junco babies. I was on the bench playing the lullaby and asked the parents' permission to look in the nest and see the babies.
Out of the blue, mom flew toward me, landed at my feet and stood looking at me for a few minutes. I was certain that this was Junco permission. With the parents watching from the familiar branch, I peeked at the nest. All I could see were feathers and open bird mouths. I was delighted and quickly retreated so that mom and dad could continue parenting.
I looked at the nest once each day. When I missed a day due to a busy schedule, I was anxious to see the growing babies the next morning. Once again, with the parents watching I crept up to the lavender and gently pulled back the foliage. All was quiet as I peered at the 4 baby birds. They had grown and this was the first time I could tell with certainty how many there were. Like a jack-in-the-box they burst from the nest cheeping loudly and scattering in all directions. The parents cheeped frantically. I was shocked and startled! Just as you cannot put a bird back into the egg, you can't put the babies back in the nest either. One baby bird ended up near the road. I gently picked it up and brought it back close to the nest. The other 3 babies disappeared and I never saw them again. The parents hung around for a few days and then they left, too.
I would like to tell you that there was a happy, Hollywood ending, but I don't think there was. I found one dead bird by nest the next day. I did not see the other 3 babies.
I have of course, pondered, evaluated and considered this experience from every angle I could think of. Lessons from nature can be different from person to person. So, I might learn an entirely different thing than you would.
I think this was a call to higher consciousness and more mindfulness. Is granting permission once the same as granting it indefinitely? Not in this case. I am in the process of committing to being more aware when I am in nature, and also when I'm not.
I still play Junco Lullaby and today while I was playing it out on the bench an Oregon Junco landed very nearby and hung out with me for awhile. This was very comforting.
