Impossibly Tiny Bird Moms

Wanting desperately to be worthy of their trust.

When I go slower I hear more and see more. It may take a little longer to ‘get my steps in’ but I do not ignore that flash of feathers, that whirrrr of wings, that tentative snippet of song or chatter. What sort of fool would keep pushing for maximum aerobic output at the expense of seeing, hearing, interacting…

with a feathered poem?

I suppose we all go to the woods for our own reasons.

It feels as if this mom and I have worked out something of a deal. While I stand sentry nearby, she feels safe enough to buzz off to the salmonberry glade for a quick stretch and feed for a few minutes. No one’s going to even notice, let alone bother her nest while that distracting human is standing nearby. Of course I could just be imagining it, but she does seem to have worked out how to take advantage of my presence. And as you may sense from these photos, she doesn’t seem particularly worried about me when she flies in and perches peacefully, just a few feet away.

So I pause more. I sit and listen, wait for the shy things to step tentatively back into the clearing once the energetic swirl of my movement and unfamiliar presence dissipates, settles.

I observe, whisper acknowledgements, pay attention. Say thank you.

I tarry.

And sometimes, in the midst of this, small magical beings appear, risk allowing me to see them, sit with them, glimpse their little ones, come achingly close.

When they do I want desperately to be worthy of their trust.

Perhaps you can see why?

Three Anna's Hummingbird mommas and their nests visited over the past few days.

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