A Most Curious Morning

June 17^th, 2013

An impromptu trip out to Hart Park

Driving along at 45 quickly rising to 55mph, a squirrel stops in my lane…looking left and right and left again, undecided which way to run. I hit my brakes so as not to squash and it runs to the right, which was its initial path.

Gaining speed again, a hawk flies above and descends in front of me, so low as to almost fly into me but rises at the last moment and soars upon the crosswinds.

Once in the park near, a displaced female peacock walks out in the road and decides instead of crossing, to just meander down the middle of the lanes towards me. I pass it just as a black cat walks out…it turns before actually crossing in front of me.

Moments later, stepping from the parked car, I am immediately distracted by a large chicken in nearby grassy area. Upon further inspection, I realize it is not a chicken but a large bird wearing a red helmet. Its head is grossly disproportionate to its bulky torso. Creeping closer to snap a picture, I just miss it as it lofts heavily atop an electric pole.

Snapping a few pictures, I turn to head back when I notice the corpses…two of them. Approximately ten feet from each other are the skeletal remains of a red helmeted tiny head but no obvious features or extremities. Later, it would dawn me that these were probably two ravaged baby buzzards and it was their Mama who sat between them and then lofted above us. Perhaps they had fallen from a nest high above in the nearby trees.

Being an impromptu trip, I had not brought any nuts or treats for my peacock friends so I intended to just walk and enjoy their company but not collect any feathers as usual.  Upon arrival into park, I had noticed an abnormal amount of refuse in Glass Pond, but it was all out in middle and unreachable. Just as I was wishing I had a bag to contain trash I saw strewn about the Peacock Domain, I noticed several plastic bags. My purpose had been dictated and I set about visiting my feathered friends while policing their area.

Midway through my trek, I came upon a quiet corner and a lone male peacock. I stood transfixed at the teal, umber and white vision that blurred with sunlight through the trees like a Monet painting.  He continued to strut and turn, all the while keeping an eye upon me. He seemed to coax me nearer, but just as I hesitated to move closer, he shrugged and retracted his plumage. Looking at me, he bowed his head and the moment ended.

A pair of unmated socks, and two grocery bags filled, I circled back to the car and noticed a staff leaning against a tree I had earlier passed by when gawking at the mystery bird.  Making my way around the other side of car, I picked up the last bits of trash: a wadded paper shaped like a heart, two fortunes which read: “you will do well to expand your horizons” and “Happiness is around the next corner and wealth down the street”, a bright pink sock also not related to the other pair, a Bible Trivia card, a green ribbon and a church invitation. Grouping these items together, I snapped a picture and then sealed up my bags. Smiling, I picked up my notebook and pen and jotted down the curious adventure, then drove home uneventfully.

            

Picture by: Paula Ann Feres-Atalla

            A friend sent me a picture of a nest full of dead eggs. Her Rhode Island Red hen had gone missing and they thought the other hens were taking a break from laying eggs, as hens sometimes do. They found Rosie and almost two dozen eggs in a spent tomato patch. She was brooding.

            Now, brooding can be positive or negative. As a noun, “BROOD” is a benign character of “nest, offspring or species.” Even under its verb wearing hat, “BROOD” may be innocent as it “sets, incubates, ponders or meditates.” However, “BROOD” often acts as glumly and foreboding as it sounds. A brooding hen will get downright cantankerous if one disrupts her nesting. Hens brood regardless of whether or not a rooster fertilizes the eggs on which they set. Without fertilization, the quiet anticipation turns to fruitless “chewing the cud.”

            I am reminded of my own brooding. Hurts and faults, both my own and those of others, which I refuse to get over. I’ve wasted hours fretting and worrying over finances or outcomes well beyond my control. I hinder my health and peace of mind when I choose bitterness over “betterness”. I choose bitter over better when I choose not to forgive or “forgive but do not forget.” Every time I choose to complain instead of offer grace, I choose bitter over better. Every time I recount someone’s faults or offenses, I choose bitter over better. Similarly, silently simmering behind a sweet smile has the same affect as nesting upon dead eggs.

            So, what is a chick to do when her feathers get ruffled or her plans do not hatch as she had hoped?

            She finds that quiet, restful, good brooding place beside her Heavenly Father and she breathes deeply of His peace and waits in stillness and trust until He “fertilizes” those eggs and guides her to fruitful ventures.