Of Birds and Dogs –Invisible Birds and the Weaver by Sara Wright

I am not feeding my year-round avian friends in the hopes that ‘my’ phoebes can nest in peace above my door and raise their brood without red squirrel interference. Last night I startled a nesting mother by turning on an outdoor light, so egg laying has begun. Every day I apologize to my beloved chickadees who must find food elsewhere (for now).

It’s hard to ignore the truth. So many birds that used to be common around here are gone. Mourning doves and white throated sparrows are two species that I miss too much. Occasionally, I hear a solitary w/t sparrow’s call. In March one mourning dove visited for a day; the flocks are gone

In this space in between bird loss and my choice not to feed those that I recognize by sight and sound, I have gradually learned how to listen to the invisible warblers that have probably been here all along.

These poignant musical spring symphonies follow me around the house and sing joyous songs in the woods, often accompanying me on walks. A multitude of other warblers inhabit my little field.

I have been serenaded by winter wren, and hermit thrush and now ovenbird has come to call. All three will remain here throughout the season, nesting on the ground, in uprooted tree trunks, in trees and other secret places.  I am grateful to live just above a hollow where brook waters flow and a mixed forest heavy with older hemlocks graces swamp, vernal pools, peeper laden serpentine edges. Left to her own wisdom and desire Nature has turned this land into a warbler sanctuary.

My invisible birds! It interests me that these birds are so well camouflaged that it would be hard to see them even if I wanted to! I am just grateful to know they are here. Once I found an ovenbird’s nest hidden on the ground next to one of my woodland paths long after the birds had fledged. But that finding was an exception. I have never searched for the others’ nests. I confess that I would prefer to listen to ethereal songs and leave those skillfully crafted homes wherever they are – some will be used again. It’s getting harder to be a bird who is allowed to live in untrammeled forest peace.

To compensate, I keep a watchful eye on the phoebes who do most of their nest building beginning before dawn and lasting until late morning. They begin again after 4 PM a while hummingbirds dip and soar.

I had a dream: I have been unfairly condemned for a crime I did not commit. I knew the story.

 Last night I dreamed that I was in the woods with my dogs when I saw a sun- burst, a golden flashing orb of light that instantly evaporated as I walked closer to my destination. Arriving at an isolated cabin a large soaring bird with long curved tipped wings was circling high over the open sky that was slowly darkening – a storm was on the way. I would have to stay a night or two instead of just one day. Someone or something flew down to note my location. Bird or man, the Powers of Air, I do not know. Except for that sighting, we were alone.

Was this a dream bird watching over my little dogs and me? Or is this interpretation too much to ask? More likely a messenger.

Invisible birds like dream birds often carry messages, offer moments of musical joy, witness suffering too immense to contain, prophesize the future. They can also act as protectors to those who desperately need them.

Invisible does not mean absence. Ovenbird’s throaty song interrupts my words as if to make certain I am rooted below lush spring greening – underground mycorrhizal mycelial roots even if broken (as long as soil has not been destroyed) will re-weave themselves if given the chance. Meanwhile, Nature’s Greening is this season’s gift if only I can part the veil.

 Animals (including plants, trees, flowers, fungi, birds and insects) have taught me over a lifetime who to trust. Do not put your faith in humans they say, though I must add that this has not been enough to stop my longing to be attached to some – or even one.

Trust your animal kin they tell me, trust your animal kin. You are part of a greater whole.

Endings always become Beginnings.

Part 2
The Weaver

I have a little five pound thirteen – year  – old dog who is in congestive heart failure and could die today.

Together we face each dawning with four syringes of oral heart medication that Hope resists with bared teeth and bites. Her fury with me knows no bounds. It is impossible to restrain her, and as a result I am never successful getting all the medication in – medicine that might prolong her life just a little longer…

After our daily ordeal I want to tell her I’m sorry but even before I can utter these words Hope is wagging her tail, piercing my heart with her cloudy eyes as she showers my face with kisses and wiggles around on my lap.

 Every single day, I am re -forgiven.

Hope is volatile and vulnerable in equal extremes. She knows what she wants and who she is. She reads my mind and heart too well when I am drowning a sea of grief. With that heaped up giant exploding organ, she continues to shower me with love that never wavers.

 I try to save her additional suffering by leaving the house when I am overcome, but I know this gesture is more for me than her.

Nothing changes what is. One Animal Soul inextricably tied to Another.

Hope has an adopted sister who she loves and dominates in equal measure expressing her need to remain top dog with growls and the occasional bite if she perceives that Lucy is stepping out of bounds. Seconds later after a temporary fracture, kisses flow from Hope to Lucy as they once again lay down together.

Recently during a difficult exchange with someone we both love Hope wriggled her way between us demonstrating once again the Path for Reconciliation…

In this divisive and disintegrating human world, Hope’s behavior expresses what is truly important. Severing connection is not the way through. Not for people or non – human beings alike.

Realignment maybe, but every permanently severed thread weakens the Web of Life for all. The only hope lies with honesty and the courage to withstand one’s ground.

Even in her dying Hope possesses a wisdom so fundamental that it’s frightening.

As a Weaver of Relationship her message never wavers.

‘The Way’ through is clear.

Only humans can shut that door.

An Animal never will.