There is now a bird feeder outside of my kitchen window. Every morning I refill it with spicy birdseed. This was supposed to prevent the squirrels from eating it, but in fact, they sit on a branch just below the feeder and eat like they’re at a picnic table (I should have known Los Angeles squirrels would be just fine with spicy food, but I digress). It’s been a joyful moment each day to watch the birds appear in the feeder. Most of the birds share the space and food, though the lone scrub jay who comes by once a day prefers a solo dining experience. There is one type of bird who visits that always captures my attention.
I have always loved spotting the lesser goldfinch on walks around my neighborhood. This tiny little resident pompom of a bird has a nearly fluorescent yellow belly, and the males wear a little black cap of feathers. They are always a welcome sight on an overcast day in the winter, a reminder of color in the life that sits dormant around us awaiting spring.
Within a week of setting up the feeder, I spotted the first lesser goldfinch. Then another. Now there are six at a time who visit, emptying the feeder so often that I wonder if they’ve taken up permanent residence there. The first time I sat outside near the feeder they chirped at each other, at me, but didn’t venture closer. The second time they hopped along the branches, observing the distance. The third time, they came straight to the feeder, and I was able to watch them up close as they ate. The other birds remain somewhere nearby, hopping from branch to branch, quietly waiting for me to leave. But the brave little lesser goldfinch does not fear me.
“Perhaps they just aren’t smart enough to fear you,” a recent visitor said. I disagree. Perhaps instead it is that when you’re so small, you have no choice but to be brave, over and over in the world around you.
I won’t say much about the world around us beyond this: the way life operates now is a nonstop churning of opinions, thoughts, news, cycle after cycle of emotional overload that almost feels like it is purposely meant to break and distract. The path of survival I walk is one where I observe the birds outside my window. The choice I will make when I feel small will be that of the brave lesser goldfinch. Over and over. Nature is where I put my attention. It always has the lesson.
Love this so much.
“Perhaps they just aren’t smart enough to fear you,” a recent visitor said. I disagree. Perhaps instead it is that when you’re so small, you have no choice but to be brave, over and over in the world around you.