Today’s entry is a tale that fits within the general category, “I’m happy to be alive.” No metaphor, moral teaching or invitation to action. Sometimes it’s enough just to tell a story.
For my previous birthday, I received a yellow ceramic bird bath (with stand) and a solar-powered mini-fountain. It sits in a safe place in our back yard, attracting a good number of birds for drinking and bathing. Something enjoyable for both the birds and me—especially true for what I presume to be a grateful English robin, who regularly visits this yard fixture at about the same time of day. Its sips and dips are leisurely, perhaps part of its daily rituals.
Last week I took apart the bird bath for some routine cleaning, while also avoiding damage from several days of anticipated below-freezing weather. The stand remained in place. At about the usual time as other days, the bathing robin perched on the birdbath stand, as though trying to determine where its drinking/bathing fountain/bath had gone.
It took two days for the below-freezing weather to pass. On the third day—sunny and warmer—I went outside to complete the cleaning and refilling of the basin, and was met with a pleasant surprise: The entire time I was working, I heard a robin—that robin?—in a nearby tree, chortling, warbling, singing or exulting in glorious songs that seemed to me beyond normal robin vocal repertoire.
As I listened, I could imagine that this bird was filled with a variety of whatever passes for bird emotions. Glad to be alive, happy to see the restoration of a favorite place, insistent that other birds know this bird’s shared ownership of the Yellow Spa. Perhaps even providing play-by-play commentary or coaching on my birdbath cleaning skills. Definitely ready for a drink and a bath!
The robin sounded happy, and so the birdbath maintenance was enjoyable. Even now—because of those storied moments—I am happy to be alive!
Thanks to a robin….
