Anti-depressant

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.