Nature and Birds in Southern Ontario, Canada
I was driving down the 406, in my big yellow school bus, after my morning run; when I saw the big birds.
There were two at the top of the tree, off of the highway. One flew off and I noted its huge wing span. I thought it was a turkey vulture.
I turned to the left and saw its partner on the tree; regally perched on the top; and then I noticed its beautiful and majestic white head and large beak.
Oops , sorry bald eagles! I thought you were turkey vultures!
Two beautiful swans were gliding over the surface of a half-frozen lake.
Who says winter can’t be beautiful.
My favourite kind of art, that really touches my heart, is bird feet in the snow.
I started my day with the news and thought how awful the world was; and then I went outside and saw the fluffy snow gently falling from the trees, the bright sunshine and the peacock blue sky.
I went inside my mother’s house and saw the chickadee busily darting back and forth from the evergreen tree to the freshly filled feeder. His attitude and behaviour made me happy and I thought how fearless and bright he made me feel.
A curious squirrel, in his winter sweater, with snow on his nose; hoping to catch a falling seed from the birds; peered in the living room window.
Note to self: turn away from the world of man and turn towards nature and then I will see a perfect winter day with all its beauty.
The rarified ambience of an early summer evening.
The cumulus clouds that slowly move in the light blue sky.
The sun that sits in a corner of the sky like a dying campfire.
The special quality of the pre-sunset sunlight that illuminates the top of the trees.
The muted respectful staccato of the American robin and the low peaceful flute of the mourning dove.
The gentle breeze that blows the leaves and introduces a cooling air.
The sweet peas; the sweet peace; the sweet peas!
Baxter the bunny was only a few feet away from me leisurely munching on dandelion leaves in my back garden.
I spoke to him like Alec in the Black Stallion speaks to the horse; hoping to say something witty and charming in rabbit.
He looked at me head on and only rotated his long ears to hear the sound of birds or dogs.
At one point, he stood up on his hind legs; at another, he stretched his back.
All the while, he continued to enjoy his dandelion leaves. They disappeared efficiently into his mouth, regardless of the size of the leaves.
I felt honoured and privileged to share that time with him. He wasn’t scared of me and I was happy for that.
P.S. Rabbit in Persian translates to “donkey ears.” Sorry Baxter, it fits!
There were buttercups everywhere. The robins were dancing in them. And I was on a ten kilometre bike ride–great stress relief.
Along the trail there were homemade bird feeders. One of them looked like a Tiki hut. I was delighted and inspired.
Is there anything more relaxing than to sit by the willow trees and watch the barn swallows swoop down by the gently rippling water?
I don’t think so.
The American robin is the town crier. He announces the descending of the night.
He sings incessantly, sincerely, melodiously. He sings from the bottom of his heart.
All of a sudden, the meandering grey clouds slowly reveal the bright fingernail of a moon suspended over the darkened treetops.
I saw a male cardinal feeding his wife a piece of suet that he found this morning for breakfast. And I saw a common grackle taking a piece of suet to the bird bath and eating it with water. He thought, “I don’t know what this junk is, but it is likely to get stuck in my throat and kill me if I don’t wash it down with water.”
The male cardinal wins for ‘best husband’ and the common grackle wins for ‘smartest bird I saw this morning’.
My Wylde Lyfe 