Nevertheless, She Persisted
“In order to see birds it is necessary to become a part of the silence.”
Robert Lynd, Solomon in All His Glory
The wind whips the heavy-leaved limbs of the willow oak. Only a few weeks ago, the leaves were beginning to bud and now the tree’s branches toss and swing like long, thick hair. I see this through the window of my study. There’s something else in my view as well, added only a week ago: a simple, inexpensive bird feeder. It hangs from the porch’s eave, and today it swings in the wind. Putting it up wasn’t my idea. A small and vocal red-head convinced me.
My husband and I bought this house two years ago. The former owner, Pat, a strong-willed woman with a soft spot for birds, had passed six months before. When her husband moved from the house, he left most of the birdhouses and feeders his wife had lovingly set out for her friends. They were in disrepair, deeply weathered, and many were filled with insects and debris. We threw them out.
It was late in the summer when we finally moved in, and I took note of the many ornamental and seeding grasses that were already thriving in a backyard bed. My plan was to add more such plants and berry-producing shrubs. But no feeders; the birds would eat from nature’s abundance.
The following spring, a female cardinal made her presence known. Every time I was outside, she flew close, perched nearby and chirped, twisting her head and focusing one eye, then the other, on me. It happened when I went out the front door, when I went out the back door, when I wandered in the yard. Each time, she was there, chattering and flying. I took note and wondered about her, thinking that she must miss the woman who’d lived here.
I pointed her out one day to a friend who was visiting, after having told the story of the former owner. She gave me a look. “You know what they say about cardinals, don’t you?” I didn’t. “They represent the spirit of someone who has died,” she said. From that point on, I called my avian neighbor, Pat.
These common and unmistakable birds are named for the red robes worn by Roman Catholic cardinals. They are also accomplished songsters, as my field guide puts it, and occupy territories year-round. They can be aggressive, too, though I preferred the word, strong, to describe this particular cardinal. She was less aggressive than insistent, like she was trying to tell me something.
When I saw her again this spring, the world had changed. We humans were, for the most part, staying home. As a result, we seemed to also have grown quieter, and I began hearing more birdsong than I have in years. Without the nearly incessant roar of human life, our winged siblings seem to be celebrating the pause by sending out their arias. Their varied voices offer joy and hope in the midst of this strange time.
It’s also true that with the enforced stillness and slowing down, I’ve finally begun to hear them—including Pat. When I sat at my desk to work, she greeted me from the porch. Day after day, she perched on the rail and peered in at me, chirping, flying up toward an empty hook, and then down again.
Finally, my ears and heart opened. Now a feeder full of sunflower seeds hangs from that hook, and a large saucer of seed sits on the porch nearby. She and her mate are two among many others—purple finches, Carolina wrens, chickadees—who come to feast. But I may be the best fed of them all.
13 Comments
Marsha
Shared this with one of my dear friends who is a dedicated bird watcher. She, like I, was blessed by your story. Hope you and your are well !
Dede
Hi, Marsha! It’s good to hear from you. Thank you for reading the post and for sharing your thoughts. It’s rewarding to know that you and your friend were blessed by the story. All those near to me are well. I hope the same is true for you.
Ann
Dede, your writing is so lush with beauty, it sweeps me away. And cardinals always make me think of my mom. Thank you for sharing.
Dede
Ann, thank you so much for your kind words. I’m pleased you enjoyed the story. And I love that cardinals, vibrant in both appearance and song, make you think of your mother. They’re hard to miss and now, for me, hard to dismiss.
Jeneanne Brown
Dede,
I found it interesting that you said they can be aggressive. I visited a male friend, who was recently widowed and one flew into my passenger window. Thank goodness the window was up. I thought is that his wife telling me to take a hike?😁
Thanks for sharing!
Dede
That’s funny, Jeneanne! It may have been her. Who knows? 😉 Thanks for sharing your story. I can always count on you for a good chuckle. 😀
Gilda Morina Syverson
Oh Dede, this is a beautiful story, as I read it here on the anniversary of my father’s death. I almost sense it is a message from the other world not only to you from Pat, but to all of us who love receiving messages from the world of spirit given by our friends the birds (and sometimes other natural beings). How beautifully descriptive your story is in so many places, just to name a few “the heavy-leaved limbs of the willow oak,” and “These common and unmistakable birds are named for the red robes worn by Roman Catholic cardinals.” I never knew that! As you would surmise, that piece of information would be important to me. In the end, I love seeing “a feeder full of sunflower seeds” hanging from the hook. It warms my heart!
Dede
Oh, Gilda. As I began typing my response to you, Pat showed up again! I’m looking at her perched on the edge of the saucer. I can’t help but think, as you might, that she’s here for you too. In this moment. Your words mean so much to me. Thank you. I’m grateful for all we share in our perspectives and backgrounds. I hope you felt held and cared for yesterday, despite the sad anniversary.
Jane Anglin
Love love love this! Thank you, Maureen, for sharing it on Facebook. Dede, your name rings a bell, but I can’t place it. Nonetheless, thank you!!
Maureen Ryan Griffin
I am so glad you loved this, Jane! It makes me appreciate our bird friends even more than I already did. Stay well, and thanks so much for responding.
Dede
Jane, thank you for your comments and for reading. I’m so happy you enjoyed the story.
Dede
Thank you for your comments, Maureen, and especially for your support of our work. Your words are a reminder that we write and walk and listen alongside many others.
Maureen Ryan Griffin
What an endearing, hopeful story! Thanks, Dede, for this story of listening–in more ways than one–to our feathered friends. A good reminder that opening our hearts feeds us.