I never pictured myself as a bird watcher. At least not a binocular carrying member of the Audubon Society. But there is something magnetic about these little creatures. Eagles are majestic and Mockingbirds are wonderful singers, but this little clump of feathers is a showman extraordinaire.
He is an aerial acrobat, a fierce defender of his territory, and faster than a speeding bullet. I’ve held more than one in my hand after he had mistaken a glass door for open flying space. His needle-like beak was partly open and his tongue, no bigger than a piece of thread, dangled in the air as I held him in my palm. He looked like he had just gotten in from a rough Saturday night, but a little drop of sugar water, a minute or two to catch his breath, and he was cleared for flight status again. He fluffed his gray feathers, gave me a wink, and took off like a miniature Atlas rocket.
I know he appreciated the medical attention because often when I was puttering in the backyard, I would hear that familiar buzzing just over my right shoulder, and there he was, stopping by for a visit.
It’s really nice to have friends, isn’t it. I’m thankful for mine. I hope you are for yours.
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