Signs

Is it really a "sign" if you don't know what it means?

When you see something unusual, something you've never seen before, and it makes you feel sad (or happy, or curious, or anything), it's supposed to mean something, isn't it?

As I walk to work in the morning, I notice the birds - not that I'm an ornithologist, or even an experienced bird watcher. There was a new voice in the neighborhood this morning, a recognizable call I hadn't heard around here in a while.

Then a few steps away, I saw a trio of birds scuffling on the sidewalk at the foot of a tall building. One bird flew off, up onto the ledge overhead; it ducked into what evidently was "home."

The other two birds continued scuffling - or at least one was. As I drew closer, I realized that one was dead. It apparently had either flown into the building or fallen from the ledge. The other bird - father? mother? mate? medic? - was picking delicately at the fallen bird's neck and head, trying to revive it. The saver tried to pull the fallen off the path, closer to home. The struggle was overwhelming. The saver paused in its effort, nuzzled closer to the fallen, and seemed to try to catch its breath.

I did not expect to wake up this morning and share another creature's frustration, despair, and grief.

If it's a sign of anything, maybe it's that the world is always capable of showing me something I'd never seen before, and make me feel something I hadn't felt in just that way before.

love, hosaa
in sorrow

Nest Guard

Yesterday I watched a cardinal guarding her nest in a tree near a parking lot:


She flitted back and forth between the tree and the supposed intruder she spotted in the side mirror of a car.

I watched awhile then went into the nursing home to visit my Mom. She understands that she will be moving from the rehab wing into long-term care there. It will mean downsizing from her small private room into a double. But she still wanted a list of all the things in her apartment so she could decide what to bring to the new room.

Mommas never stop guarding their nests, do they?

Love, hosaa,
wrestling with nests

Visual Aid

I'm really more of a word botcher than a bird watcher, but yesterday I heard a familiar voice in the neighborhood. I hadn't heard a Baltimore Oriole since I was a kid, but I think there's one making its home in the trees near my apartment building.

They're shy birds, but I thought I spotted one in the bare limbs. I whipped out my camera but knew that, shooting it against the early morning southeastern sky, I'd only get a silhouette:

I had a plan: Import the shadowy thing into Paint Shop Pro, crop, and click on Clarify and Saturate about a million times. Of course I wouldn't get a good photo out of it - I just wanted to see what colors would come up.

Close enough? I think I'm right. I recognized the voice. Maybe I'll name this one Belanger.

Love, hosaa
seeing through my ears - and technology