Feathered Friends, Now that makes me happy - A short story by Berni Albrighton

 

There were several big trees laden with enough olives to keep the three thousand or so Starlings satisfied for a couple of weeks.

We were humbled and entertained by the murmuration's and acrobatic displays. They let us eavesdrop on their chatter as they sat tightly side by side on the electric cables.

And as a parting gift they deposited  their black droppings everywhere.

The newly installed bird feeder and water bowl is stocked with  

Seeds, grapes and suet balls,  offering up promises of a full belly,  but one must be patient.         Birds are not impulsive and spontaneous when it comes to feeders. 

They spend weeks watching, weighing up the comings and goings before they will feast.

The Starlings completely ignored this area, leaving it for the Blackcaps and the Robin, the Song Thrush and the Black Redstarts.

 

I spend many minutes at a time watching our feathered visitors who, in this vast countryside, have found the hidden bird cafe.

The Robin comes and hops into the shallow bowl, dipping its head into the  refreshing water and splashing its body. Occasionally the tiny feathers at the brow of its nose would stand up as he sensed something or someone was watching him. I catch glimpses of his delicate skin, his red chest feathers parting slightly as they dampen. 

I wonder if there is any truth in the saying that your loved ones show themselves in the image of a Robin. 

I fool myself that it is true, and I thank the universe for this moment.

The Song Thrush who came not on its own but with two others. Their chests are majestic with little brown spots, their beaks long and shiny.

Scooping up the water they tilt their heads back to swallow and I stand in awe at their beauty.

Spiritually they remind us to embrace change, to know that all will be well if we stay in harmony with oneself. 

Mr Black Redstart, dapper with his tailcoat, feathers glossy and rich, teasing me with glimpses of his russet rear. Its’ elegance and streamlined body perfectly balanced on the rim of the bowl, the sun playing with the jet black mask across his eyes. He takes his time, sheltered by the leaves of the Oleander tree.

Blackcaps come in many numbers. Pairs of Mr. and Mrs. take turns to bathe whilst the others stand at the rim and drink. 

The male resplendent with their smart black perfectly fitted caps. The females doing their  best with a dowdy washed out shade of brown. They stay close together, safety in numbers although the density of the bushes and trees will give them a quick hiding place from the Magpies. 

In these special moments, when I feel a peace and calm, I say to myself “Now that makes me happy”