Chirp

A few weeks ago I saw a cardinal for the first time.

I mean this kind:



Not this kind:

I'd always imagined that I'd see a cardinal the way I first saw a blue jay.


The Marine and I were camping at Bon Echo in the fall. I was reading when all of a sudden a blue jay swooped down to take advantage of some peanuts and cheerios we'd scattered for the chipmunks. It took my breath away seeing this beautiful animal, its bright colours seeming so out of place in our Canadian wilderness. That seems a strange thing to say about such a quintessentially Canadian bird, but our birds are typically so practical, and moderate. In other words, utterly Canadian.

I had thought my encounter with a cardinal would be similar, but instead I saw one about two weeks ago, perched on a neighbours antennae as the Marine and I sat in the yard and talked. It was quiet and I only saw the Cardinal because I glanced up.

Then he started chirping and I realized that this little bird has been the source of the glorious bird song I fell in love with two years ago when I first started hearing it. It's been a beacon of spring for me ever since, confirmation that winter is well and truly on the outs.

But as silly as it may sound, I think of this bird as a little signal from God. When I get all wrapped up in my own petty anxieties, usually dreading the day and the obstacle course I've assigned to it, that's usually when I'll hear the cardinal chirping. Sometimes I just lie in bed and listen for a while. I consider its song a direct message from the heavens. Zesty, there is a bigger world, a bigger creation out there. Regardless of its stumbling compassion and mercenary horror, this bird will chirp!

This little bird reminds me to remember the big picture, to be grateful for what I do have, remember my blessings and the victories I have obtained, however little status I may personally assign to them.

It's so funny that in this world of climate-change-this and global-warming-that, high oil prices and recessionary hand wringing, my little neighbourhood is undergoing its own renaissance, increasing its own diversity There was a time, I sense, when something as radical and joyful as my chirping cardinal wouldn't have survived.

Sometimes, it's nice that times do change.