Have you ever dreamed of taking flight? There is just nothing quite as sweet as deep dreams of being weightless in flight above the world.
There is something so intriguing about this ability and it gives me pause when I watch birds returning to our farm after we put winter behind us each year.
Yesterday, a young downy woodpecker landed just outside my window. Small but mighty, the black and white striping looks like a work of art. This bird waited in the old maple tree as I refilled an empty suet feeder. I stepped back and watched as it got its belly full.
Next to appear was a tiny, round black-capped chickadee. It landed on my living room window, peering in at me as I worked to accomplish some spring cleaning. After taking its fill from the bird feeder, this pretty little chickadee stayed near for quite awhile.
I remember my dad’s excitement when barn swallows began building nests in the dairy barn’s bottom floor. Open to the north, this was an area that housed treated cows or close-up heifers so we could keep an eye out for a difficult first birth. We referred to it, always, as “the Doc Smith pen” and it gave our neighbor and veterinarian, Royce Smith, easy access to the cows we summoned him to check.
It was in this part of the barn that swallows built sturdy nests for their offspring. Once new swallows hatched, we knew to respect their swooping attempts to keep their young safe.
“Even if you don’t usually wear a hat, at least have one with you,” Dad told newly hired help when sending them to the Doc Smith pen. Swallows were known to swoop with precision, hard enough to knock a farm hat off our head.
Barn swallows kept bug populations down and we knew without being told that we were to respect their presence and their work in our favor.
One fellow, who I assume simply didn’t know better, intentionally knocked a swallow nest off of the north beam with a pitchfork while bedding down the Doc Smith pen. I can honestly say it was the only time I saw my father upset to the point of raising his voice, a mixture of disbelief and anger pushing him to ask why anyone would do such a thing.
We all are different in the way we view the natural world around us. As I’ve grown older, I’ve become more enchanted with watching the birds that come and go here on our farm. I look forward to warming weather in hopes of seeing Baltimore orioles and bluebirds return each year.
I’m hoping for a flash of orange to catch my eye soon, as I listen for the distinct song of the orioles as we turn the calendar to April.
