Birds, Bells, and Baby

It's a nice day, if a bit cloudy, so I took some time this morning for a walk down to the neighborhood pond. I can report that spring, while still not here, is certainly close. The pond is mostly iced over with a thin sheet. The north end is clear of ice and populated with a flock of mallard ducks. I have a great fondness for mallards. When I was a boy I did a report for science class on them. I would sit by the old mill pond behind the library for hours, getting to know my new friends. I loved their dramatic water landings, their clumsy waddling, their absurd dabbling (head down, duck-butt straight up), and their quiet, graceful, glide across the water. I loved the peace that came of watching them and the raucousness when they were honking and quacking at each other. The plumage on the males took my breath away. Iridescent purples and greens created by light playing along prismatic feathers; a mallard's head became a light-show to a fascinated child. Common as they are I still get excited when I see them.

The ducks where flitting back and forth from pond to field, the field being dominated by a few Canada geese. An old fellow was walking with a small child through the park, showing him the big birds. Grandpa wisely kept a firm grip on junior's mitten while introducing him to his new friends. Some of those geese where bigger than the kid.

After spending some time with my old friends I strolled up over a small hill and into a stand of trees. I could still hear the ducks, who were particularly chatty. Above and around I could hear the occasional gull, and in the trees all around were songbirds, mostly keeping themselves out of sight. I'm sure a good birdwatcher could identify a few species just by song and brief glimpse of a fast flying form, but not me. Still a bad birdwatcher after all these years, at least I'm having fun.

As I strolled along, a nearby church rang its bells, telling me that it was noon and time to head home for lunch. After a count of twelve the bells sounded a nice little tune, extolling the glory of God and celebrating his creations. As the tintinnabulations faded and the various birdsongs and calls continued, I couldn't help but think that we bellringers are but late celebrants to this gathering, and that the music may well continue long after we have moved on.