As a bio-regional animist, I profess to live as part of a family that embraces all creatures of nature including stones and plants as well as animals, and humans of all races and creeds. I honor the ties that bind us all. I am pledged to respect each one's role in the play of Life, and honor their right to live and create in their own ways. This is not as easy as it sounds, nor is it always beautiful and bright. Part of this is also acknowledging that there is darkness as well as light, sadness as well as joy, and danger as well as comfort.
A pair of house finches chose to build their nest on the eaves of my porch in the springtime this year. I felt blessed by their presence, especially since this was the first Spring in my new home. First they came scouting out the site. Both of them surveyed one corner of the porch and seemed to discuss it daily, deciding exactly where the nest should go. I was glad they didn't pick the space right in the corner because I knew the drainpipe and gutter dripped there. Wisely, they finally settled on a spot a little off from the corner, hidden behind the top of one of the metal support posts. Every morning I enjoyed watching the nest take shape as the pair busily gathered stuff and put it neatly into place. Home sweet home!
Then the mother bird sat. I knew eggs would be coming soon. Both birds were spending more time in the nest. Then one morning I heard the tiny peeps of hatchlings. There were at least two, maybe three. I didn't want to disturb them by peeking too closely.
The hatchlings were well-fed by their parents over the next several weeks. One morning I was thrilled to see one of the babies flapping their wings, practicing to fly. It wouldn't be long before they would leave the nest. This was a little sad, of course, because I would miss watching them each day, but I was happy to see this wonderful avian rite of passage taking place right before my eyes. It was a joyous, hopeful experience.
I mentioned crows at the beginning of this bit of writing. I think you know what comes next. The same day I saw the baby bird flapping its wings, I went out to walk my dog later and noticed a crow on the porch roof. There are lots of crows around here, but they prefer to stay in the woods across the street or roost in the line of old pine trees behind my house. This crow was watching, listening, and putting together a plan. I could almost hear the wheels turning inside that sleek black head. I clapped my hands and yelled to chase it away. It cawed back at me and flew only as far as a nearby tree, where it remained on surveillance.
It was a gift to be able to watch the finches make a home on my porch and raise a family. This daily story I'd been witnessing ended abruptly when I saw the crow squeeze itself into that small, presumably safe place in the rafters and tear into the nest, taking away one baby bird, then quickly returning for the other. The mother and father did their best to ward off the crow but they were too small to be intimidating.
After the babies were gone, the pair flew away and didn't return for about an hour. Then suddenly they were back - with an entire clan of their fellow house finches! This group of birds swarmed all around the vicinity of the nest, fluttering and twittering loudly, for a good ten minutes. It was like a wake. Then, as suddenly as they appeared, they all flew off at once.
It was heartbreaking, yet I couldn't hate the crows for being crows. I still love them. Now I have a slightly different kind of respect for them.
There's still a happy ending. I thought the house finches had abandoned the nest after the crow-raid. There was no activity for a few weeks. Then one morning I saw what I assumed was the same pair return and take up housekeeping again. Or it could have been a different pair. It doesn't matter. Soon there were eggs, hatchlings, and this time they survived without any threat from crows. Two healthy young house finches left the nest with their parents a few weeks ago.
The song of life goes on, finding its own harmony on the wing.
This is really cool! It is very interesting when nature gives you no "side" to root for. It's the thing about why animism isn't for the faint of heart or those against realism. Why the password is respect not love. Everyone has to die and become some else via digestion. My shrine for a starling in this month's ABC is from starlings who raised babies in a hole in my porch each year. One spring, I found the skeleton under the porch hole when the snow cleared. A baby who fell out? An adult who died? They felt like family, my cat Max growl gurgling at them! I understand what that connected relationship of familiarity is like.
ReplyDeleteI am really glad you joined in! I hope to read more of your work in the ABC!
http://lifthrasirsuccess.wordpress.com/2013/08/09/call-for-animist-blog-carnival-submissions-bioreion-death-mating-dating-animism-and-other-religions/