Thursday, November 16, 2017

The Waiting Crowd

There's a cold rain falling. Perhaps a degree above freezing. And I'm worrying about my squirrels, mourning doves, dark-eyed juncos, the various sparrows, the finches - all that visit the feeders. All of them my creatures that I've been feeding twice daily for some time. Black oil sunflower seeds, millet, cracked corn, peanuts, wheat grain, and the such.

I realize they're not really my creatures, but I'm attached to them with that delicate strand of humanity that forces me out in that rain clad in a thin shirt to spread the afternoon manna before the waiting crowd. And they do wait, dozens to tiny birds strung like jewels along the fence, doves hunkered in the trees above, and squirrels lining the edge of my studio roof. 

"Crowd" is appropriate - at one such feeding my wife Jan counted over 30 dove in the mix, with squirrels and dozens of sparrows, finches and juncos oblivious to each other. But it's mid-November and getting colder. I'm beginning to worry about the survival of my creatures, despite knowing that each is equipped to survive. I tend to surprise myself with the amount of concern I have for  these tiny beings, actually God's creatures, not mine. God takes care of them better than I - all I can really do is help out by feeding them.