As I moved along the walkway toward my front door I heard mama junco’s soft, syncopated trill. I called back to her with the amateurish clicks I’ve been making to imitate her song. I wonder what she makes of my silly sounds?
I saw her hopping along on the ground, very close to where I stood. She then flew up into the camellia bush, and onto the edge of the basket where her nest resides. As she perched there for several seconds, it appeared to me, our eyes met. She turned and peaked into the basket, then flew back into to the camellia bush.
Whether real or imagined, I interpreted this as an invitation so I quickly peeked into the basket. Mama watched from the bush. The wiggly little mass doesn’t yet resemble birds, as eyes are still closed, but tiny beaks and some light feathery fuzz is visible. What a gift, to witness the magic of new life taking form just outside my front door. And a strong metaphor, too. Thank God for the wild things who teach us so much.