During the morning, at noon and then this evening, three birds have flown into two different windows at the back of our house. In four years of living here, this has never, I repeat NEVER, happened before. I’ve got birds dive-bombing my windows…what does it all mean?!?!?
One of my favorite writers, Annie Dillard, says this in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek:
“About five years ago I saw a mockingbird make a straight vertical descent from the roof gutter of a four-story building. It was an act as careless and spontaneous as the curl of a stem or the kindling of a star. The mockingbird took a single step into the air and dropped. His wings were still folded against his sides as though he were singing from a limb and not falling, accelerating thirty-two feet per second, through empty air. Just a breath before he would have been dashed to the ground, he unfurled his wings with exact, deliberate care, revealing the broad bars of white, spread his elegant, white-banded tail, and so floated onto the grass. I had just rounded a corner when his insouciant step caught my eye; there was no one else in sight. The fact of his free fall was like the old philosophical conundrum about the tree that falls in the forest. The answer must be, I think, that beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them. The least we can do is try to be there.”
Perhaps I shall pull up a chair tomorrow, expectantly watch the windows and hopefully catch my birds lambasting their hearts out. For although they lacked grace today, they’ve reminded me that all of creation is performing. Tomorrow I should, at least, be more aware of the show.