A Place in the Choir

"All God's critters got a place in the choir
Some sing low, some sing higher,
Some sing out loud on the telephone wires,
And some just clap their hands, or paws, or anything they got now."

Yup, everybody’s got a place. Right now, in the midst of unemployment, mine is in the yard. Not a bad place to be if you like to commune with nature. I have lots to commune with. Birds of all kinds, chipmunks, squirrels, etc ., all make up the choir in our yard. This morning, I filled the feeder and put the extra whole peanuts out on the stump for the little rodents. By the time I was back to the door, the sentinels had alerted the crowds, and the birds were happily eating again. I will miss this when I go back to work. I’ve taken to sitting outside and watching them, and they don’t seem to be phased by me anymore. I have become the “Pasty Large Figure Who Brings Peanuts and Stares at Us, But Seems Harmless”. I used to be the “Strange Beast Who Thinks We’ll Eat Stale Bread and Could Potentially Kill Us”. Just for the record, the raccoons seem to like stale bread, but not so much the birds. Or at least the raccoons like to play with it. They take it and put pieces in the bird bath. On the other hand, maybe they don’t like the bird bath. It’s bright blue. Maybe they would prefer a pastel or more muted color? Do raccoons watch HGTV? I hope not.
Raccoon design preference aside, the fauna seems happy. I have watched for days as the little creatures come in and munch on the vittles. They all have their unique habits. I’ve noticed the bluejay watches from afar , and slowly creeps closer. Then, he springs into action, flies in, picks up a peanut and flies off. He's a thief and the little birds hate him. The small sparrows and starlings have no fear of me whatsoever. They will dash in the moment there is new seed in the feeder and only flee if I make sudden movements. (So, I've abandoned my Fosse interpretive dance training.) The cardinals (state bird of every state except possibly Alaska) have nested in a large bush that I was planning on removing in the yard. The babies are now coming to feeder as well. Ugly birds with bad hairdos. I stopped the plans for bush demolition as I couldn’t bear the thought of homeless birds, suitcases by their side, weeping and mourning as I chopped down their home, and pointing me out to their children as a home wrecker. Maybe next year.
All I know is that in the midst of what could be a horribly depressing summer, I’ve found my Walden, and with it, a sense a peace that had been lacking. Being employed is over-rated, if you overlook the basic need to provide essentials like say, food and shelter. Maybe soon. I have to pay for the bird seed.





* (Bill Staines)