It is the case that I am often not exactly jumping for joy. In fact, it is often the case that I am not exactly jumping for joy. That's kind of normal for me, though. What's really shitty is when I find myself thinking, "I'm not sure I can go on." This feeling is not habitual. It comes a few times a year. Along with leaden legs. It's not despair. Nothing as active as that. There's no anxiety or fretting. No thinking or brooding. Just an utter exhaustion of spirit.
That's what I was experiencing when I went outside to feed the birdies one morning. It was an experience very much like the one shown in this video. Son of Bob wasn't there.
I was trying to console myself with the dunnocks. And there was some consolation. After all, a male was chasing a female. His courtship involved a fluttering of the wings when about 18 inches away from her combined with a high pitched cheeping. I didn't manage to film that. But I did photograph on of the birds.
As I was standing there, I had that thought, "I don't know if I can go on."
At that very moment I heard wings close by and heard or sensed or knew that a bird had landed on the fence behind me. I turned.
And that was enough to get me through another day.
But it wasn't all that the birds offered.
I heard a rattle - a crow's companionable call - and looked up.
That's as close as they tend to come to the garden. I clicked at the bird - the sound I make when I feed them at the park. And, guess what happened? The crow arched their neck and clicked, in the way that CD used to! I don't think this was CD, but whoever it was, they expressed connection, just as Bobbit had done, by flying to me. Of course, I went off to feed the crows. Another sense of purpose. Another reason to get out of bed. Not exactly curing cancer or translating the Rosetta Stone, but enough.
Bless Bobbit, the dunnocks, the crows and the connections you have with all these creatures xx