Birds

The Day the Outdoors Introduced Itself

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Thanks for stopping by to visit. I was thinking about something the other day . . . .

When I was about six or seven years old, our next-door neighbors invited me to spend the weekend with them on a little farm they owned near Florida, Missouri.

It wasn’t a working farm in the sense I imagined farms to be. Someone else did the farming, and they simply shared the harvest. And by city-boy standards, it was primitive, like a trip back to the wild west of my imagination.

A well for water and no indoor plumbing. There was a chamber pot for doing necessary overnight business behind a pulled back curtain in what used to be a closet because outside there could be roaming bobcats, coyotes, and foxes. They didn’t mention bears and wolves, but my imagination soon caught up to include them, too.

But for me, though, and how it all turned out, it all might as well have been Yellowstone National Park.

I had no idea one ordinary summer Saturday was about to introduce me to a whole new world and life

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An Unexpected Visitor

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A few weeks ago, after saying goodbye to my little Chihuahua, Allie, I was sitting quietly at home when an unexpected visitor stopped by my window.

Now, before I tell you about the visitor, I should probably explain something.

Birds and I are already on fairly familiar terms.

A pair of House Sparrows built a nest this spring in a ventilation outlet just outside my apartment on the third floor. For weeks, they came and went carrying bits of grass, feathers, and whatever else sparrows use when decorating a nursery. Not long ago, the young ones finally fledged. For several days afterward, the babies could often be seen perched nearby and on my windowsill itself, fluttering their wings and loudly demanding food as though they had never been fed a meal in their lives.

As a result, birds visit my windowsill rather regularly.

Sparrows stop by.

Finches stop by.

Occasionally a woodpecker appears, drilling in the bricks and mortar for insects, spiders, and insect pupae hiding in the crevices. they inspect it all with great seriousness.

Birds come and go so often that seeing one outside my window or on my window ledge is hardly unusual.

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A Conversation on the Morning Air

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There are some Spring mornings that feel as though they’ve been set out just for noticing.

Last week offered one of those.

The air had that early-season softness — not quite warm, not quite cool — in between — the kind that carries sound a little farther than usual and lets the world arrive in layers. Across the street stood a White Dogwood in full bloom, its branches lifted and spread like open hands, each one holding those unmistakable cross-shaped blossoms that seem less like flowers and more like small, quiet declarations.

And there, settled comfortably among them, was a Cardinal, its crimson feathers glowing in the sunlight.

Not just present — but singing.

Filling the morning air with his full-throated melodies. Steady, and sure of himself, as Cardinals tend to be. The kind of song that doesn’t ask for attention so much as assuming it will be given.

On my side of the street, just ahead, stood a Red Maple — not yet committed to Spring, its branches still mostly bare, holding back just a little longer before leafing out. And from somewhere within those branches — though I could not see him at all — came the bright, quick voice of a Carolina Wren.

It is one of those things, where if you know that sound, you know it — sharp, cheerful, almost insistent, as if every note matters. Such a loud song coming from such a tiny bird.

And then something curious happened.

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The Morning the Windows Open Again

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And the Small Bird Who Knew It First

Morning brought its own small announcement today.

Out on a branch of the Honey Locust tree just beyond the window, a Carolina Wren had taken up position and was delivering his familiar seven-note song — over and over and over again — with the bright confidence of a creature that believes the whole world ought to hear it.

And the remarkable thing is that the world usually does.

It never ceases to amaze how such a tiny bird can produce a voice large enough to fill the yard, echo across the nearby trees, and make itself known to anyone within reasonable listening distance.

The little fellow sang as though he were warming up for something important.

Spring, perhaps.

Somewhere in the quiet workings of the seasons, preparations are already underway. The light shifts a little. The ground softens. Birds begin testing their voices again.

And this particular wren seemed determined that nobody should overlook the moment.

There is probably a lesson hidden somewhere in all that — the old reminder that sometimes it takes only one voice to make a difference.

But that is a subject for another day.

This morning, the message felt simpler.

He was reminding me — It might be time to open the window.

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Front Porch Notes — Just Something I Set Down

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Just Something I Set Down

Winter has a way of narrowing the world.

The view out the window grows smaller. Daylight slips away early, like it has someplace else to be. Air sharpens, carrying that clean, honest cold that wakes you up if you let it.

I noticed that this week while sitting in my rocking chair by the bedroom window, tea cooling nearby because I had forgotten to drink it, as usual. The predicted snow had come in overnight — the kind that smooths everything over and makes the world look newly ironed. No tracks yet. No hurry. Just quiet.

A flash of red landed briefly in the bare branches across the way — a cardinal, bright as a dropped mitten against the snow. He stayed just long enough to make his point, then moved on.

A flicker of motion caught my eye.

A red-headed woodpecker worked his way up and down the branches of the honey locust outside my window, tapping, pausing, tapping again, as if checking a long list of winter responsibilities. His bright head flashed against the pale morning, all business and purpose.

Below him, the mourning doves were already at work.

They are always there — steady, unassuming, moving along the ground beneath the feeders just as they always do. While other birds dart and flutter, the doves walk rather than hop, heads bobbing gently, as if keeping time to a tune only they can hear.

Near the base of the feeder, the chipmunk made a brief appearance — a quick inspection, a pause, and then gone again, carrying on as if winter were merely an inconvenience.

The feeder itself soon filled — sparrows first, then juncos in their tidy grey coats, and finally the chickadees, darting in and out as if late for an appointment. It swayed slightly with their comings and goings, a small sign of life in an otherwise still morning.

Later, it was time to bundle up and take my little chihuahua outside. She approached the snow with caution, as if it might suddenly do something unexpected, then set about her business with dignity intact. I lingered longer than necessary after we finished, breathing in the winter air. I have always loved this season — the way it clears things out, the way it feels honest and bracing, the way it asks you to be present and alive.

But winter asks a lot of us. Patience, for one. A willingness to slow down whether we want to or not. Sometimes it asks us to stay put, to wait things out, to trust that what looks dormant is not finished — only resting.

And in return, winter offers these quiet gifts — a cardinal passing through, a determined woodpecker at work, the steady presence of mourning doves beneath the feeder, the clean breath of cold air that fills your lungs and reminds you that you are still very much here.

The world, it seems, has not stopped. It has simply lowered its voice.

Somewhere nearby, a bird called out — sharp and clear — and for a moment it felt like an answer, though I had not asked a question.

Winter will pass. It always does. But while it is here, it offers this small, steady reassurance — life continues, quietly and faithfully, right outside the window.

Sometimes, that is more than enough.

We need only look.

— Jim  (and Red!)

 

The Wondrous and Wonderful Week That Was!

/ jrmilson / 8 Comments

Hey, y’all — how is your new year going so far? Wait ’til you hear about the week I had…

My new year started off with a Bang the past week! I’d be surprised if you hadn’t heard it. (Not a literal but rather a figurative “Bang!”, of course.)

What a fantastic week and auspicious start to the new year here! Hope yours went as well, and as always, please don’t be shy and feel free to share in the Comments. We would all love to hear about it!

Here is a quick recap of my past week  . . . . .

Monday — 

I have always been an avid bird lover and watcher. One of my most favorite little birds is the Black-capped Chickadee. Despite recognizing all of their various songs and “dee-dee-dee-dee-dee” alarm calls, I had never actually seen one live and in person.

Until Monday! Walking my little chihuahua, Allie, I paused at a spot to let her do her ritual sniffing of the fallen leaves and grass routine when all of a sudden I heard two Chickadees.

I looked up and there they were, a pair of Black-capped Chickadees no more than four feet away in a small tree above my head. I was able to watch them go about their business for several minutes.

Then, walking a little further ahead, I again paused near a friend’s bird feeders to let Allie roam about on the lawn. Within two minutes, I saw a pair of Bluebirds, more Black-capped Chickadees, a pair of Cardinals, and numerous Purple and House Finches, capped off by a White-breasted Nuthatch going up and down the tree beside me, again mere feet away. What an amazing winter walk we had that morning!

Tuesday —

The most amazing, red-letter day —

I became a “Grandpa” for the first time!

Having had four children of my own including a set of twins, I have always joked and kidded around that I have been training all of my life to be a “Grandpa.” And now, looky here — I am one!!

Tuesday saw the birth of my first grandchild! Little Pendleton Robert Milson was welcomed into the family, firstborn of my son Matthew and his delightful wife Samantha. Marvelous kids who will make outstanding parents! I could not imagine a baby being blessed with more wonderful parents.

(Of course, I am biased! But please grant a proud Grandpa a little leeway and license to brag, yeah?)

Way to go and most sincere, heartfelt congratulations to Matthew, Samantha, and baby Pendleton!!

Wednesday —

On Wednesday morning, I received a lovely note from a “Little Red Bear” stories reader, enjoying “The Adventures of Little Red Bear: The First Holler!” and apparently not even finished yet, (Wait ’til she gets to the story about the Woodboogers!) —

“Dear Jim — I just wanted to sit a spell and tell you how much I am enjoying “The Adventures of Little Red Bear”. Although I am a city slicker, my husband grew up around the Ozarks areas of the stories and is well acquainted with hollers and criks. Reading your book is such a delight, as I become engrossed in Little Bear’s adventures. I just had to smile as I leaned back and fell into Little Red Bear’s world. The stories and voice of Little Red Bear are so needed for kids and adults and I am so appreciative that you share these stories!! Thank you so much!” — L.H.

Thank you, L.H., for your kind and generous note! Little Red Bear even put down the honey jar and broke into a Happy Dance across the kitchen floor. Wish you could have seen it! When Red breaks into a dance, it rattles the cabin floors in such a way as to rival a small earthquake. And he rattled them for quite a spell after reading your kindhearted and thoughtful note!

Having eliminated all royalties on my Little Red Bear books at the beginning of the COVID Pandemic to make the books and stories as affordable as possible for everyone, reader notes such as this touch my heart. If you would like to see what others have had to say about the stories, check out “Little Red Bear Book Reviews & Reader Comments!”

Thursday —

Thursday saw the publication of a new blog post, the first official piece of the new year here — “Guided By The Golden Rule — Living Happily with Kindness and Compassion”.

With my primary mission this year to get back to regular writing, the new post got the ball rolling right on schedule.

Friday —

On Friday morning, I had another follow-up visit with the doctor for the recent Rotator Cuff Surgery on my right shoulder. Thanks to the amazing work of Dr. Spitzfaden, the orthopedic surgeon, and the efforts of Marla B., my physical therapist, I passed all movement and strength examinations with flying colors. All of the therapy work and at-home exercises paid off in grand fashion and I was granted an early release.

So, I am most happy to report that while continued healing and strength training work will continue for the next year (and maybe two, the doctor said), my right shoulder is now functioning amazingly well, with it being only eleven weeks, less than three months out from surgery.

And, not to overlook, the feeling has returned to around 90% in all of my fingers, following the bilateral carpal tunnel and trigger finger surgeries on both hands in June. So, though still nursing along an irreparably damaged left shoulder which may result in a future shoulder replacement at some point, other areas are definitely trending up.

Saturday —

Living on the outskirts of St. Louis and the nearby Ozarks Mountains region, we received our first measurable snowfall of the winter season on Saturday morning. It was only about a little less than an inch, but so beautiful.

With snow on the ground and gorgeous pink sunsets framed by bare tree branches out my windows in early evenings, winter always holds its own very special beauty for me.

“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is time for home.” –  Edith Sitwell

What do you enjoy most about the Winter Season? Please share in the Comments.

Sunday —

It is early on Sunday morning as I write this, so who knows what special event or happenstance later today may cap this amazing week?

Maybe it is simply the fact that I am once again typing away at nearly full-speed on the laptop with my newly rehabbed shoulder and hand surgeries, working on new Little Red Bear adventure stories, and getting ready to share yet another new writing piece with you already in the new year!

And that in itself is pretty special all on its own, isn’t it?

So, what an amazing week, don’t you think?!?  Feeling truly blessed in so many ways, not the least of which is having you reading along to share it.

Thank you so much for stopping by today!  I hope your upcoming week is very special for you, too. And the coming new year for us all, as well.

Sometimes we can pick up on the dark clouds hanging over someone and the struggles they may be going thru, but oftentimes not.  That is when a simple kind word or gesture may serve to turn someone’s entire day or life around, a kindness freely shared and shining thru the darkness.

We all go thru turmoil and issues in our lives that are frequently not visible to others, and perhaps that is when an unexpected kindness counts the most.

Will you shine your special light and help to brighten someone’s day today? And again tomorrow? I invite you to join “The Smile & Compliment Club” and allow kindness to become a regular practice in your life. It will make a world of difference for others, and for yourself, as well.

‘Til next time! — Jim  (and Red!)  🤠 🐻

“Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.” – Mark Twain

“In music, in the sea, in a flower, in a leaf, in an act of kindness . . . I see what people call God in all these things.” – Pablo Casals 

Meet Little Red Bear & His Friends —  “Once Upon A Time In A Very Special Woods . . . .”

Old-fashioned, Family-friendly Stories and Fun for All Ages! 
About an Uncommonly Special Bear and His Friends.
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