Yesterday we paddled in to a spot in a Conservation Area in our region to enjoy yet another perfect Fall day. We built a fire, read books, and one crazy 72-year-old donned his wet suit and went for a swim. Yup, chilly.
This morning we chatted about the profound silence and tranquility. The water was like glass and it was so still we could literally hear dropping leaves hit the ground. We felt blessed by the Creator.
What was missing on a late October day were the birds we saw on the same lake in May -- loons, ospreys, merlins, and kingfishers. They have departed for warmer climes.
We are coming to the end of the Autumn migration season during which up to a billion birds are recorded in flight across the continent each night. This is a miraculous event which takes place while most of us are sleeping.
During the Summer I read a book called Watch and Wonder: Birding as a Spiritual Practice. It is by Ragan Sutterfield , an Episcopal priest in Arkansas. He reflects on his life-long passion for birding in the context of the twelve months of the year with chapter headings such as hospitality, abundance, vision, patience, and friendship. Every chapter was thought-provoking and an invitation to "consider the birds of the air" to use the words of Jesus, to be attuned to the world around us in communally or in solitude.
I wrote to Ragan and encouraged him to create a study guide based on the book because I've discovered that there is a growing enthusiasm for birding, perhaps because we know that bird populations are diminishing. There is even a phrase, "early onset birding" to describe the growing number of young people who are taking up the pursuit, or practice, if you will.
It is vital for all of us to ponder the natural world, to pay attention to the birds and Monarch butterflies, and dragonflies in migration, to appreciate the interconnectedness of all living creatures. There are no national borders for these creatures, no Lake of America, no tariffs.
Yesterday we watched and wondered, thanks be to God, and Ruth may have heard the wild hoot of the elusive Demented Oldster.
No comments:
Post a Comment