Lively Morning

Cowboy hat etiquette states that you don’t switch from felt to straw hats until after Memorial Day. But with our temps reaching 90 degrees here at the Chicken Ranch, I’m in a straw hat as I prepare to head out this particular morning. My coffee mug in my good hand is steaming as I make my way through the door. I’m greeted with warm spring air this morning as I step out on the south porch. Often the first sound I hear when I walk outside is from the hens quarreling over a scrap or bug, or the rooster proclaiming his superiority. But today it is the voices of songbirds singing their praises for this new and beautiful morn that reaches my ears first. The cheerful voices that greet us from the yard and gardens change daily as new birds arrive for the season. Each feathered creature adds its own distinctive sound, and then together they blend into a gentle, uplifting chorus. My peripheral eye catches a vivid blue among the crabapple pedals that have fallen near, and into, the waterfall. I turn to see a new pretty feathered arrival.

The Jays and Indigos have come to liven up the landscape with their impressive azure feathers. The Indigo Bluebird tweets politely as he springs from twig to twig. The Blue Jays on the other hand, like to complain a lot. But I think they actually enjoy themselves more than they let on. Our red Cardinals have wintered over, taking advantage of Patty’s generous provision of food in the bird feeder outside the kitchen window. Newly returned bright yellow finches light on the branches near the feeder.

The feeder is a replica I built of Xavier Onces Tavern from the movie Lonesome Dove. I got the idea after a cat killed one of a pair of doves that lived here a few years ago. The male mourned his loss and remained alone here for two years. I built the wooden structure and placed the Lonesome Dove sign on the front. Our dove would come to the food source and sit on top of the roof making his lonesome mournful call. And then one day I found him beneath a pine tree. I never knew if he died of old age or a broken heart. I buried him under the pine. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

This day there are a pair of doves, one nearly white, cooing to one another while feasting on the sunflower seeds provided. All the birds are on their best behavior this time of year as they search for a mate . The songs are never fuller nor the wingspreads wider than in the spring mating season. Procreation instincts cause the various dance styles and puffed chests, and the rebirth of greenery signals in them the need for timely new births in the bird kingdom.

As I make my way down the highway this morning the mists hover like soft down blankets over the fields, just a few feet above the ground. The sun is a glowing half ball of orange as it peeks above the moisture and bears the promise of a bright and cheerful day. Through the mist I make out several dark objects moving in slow motion. As get closer I realize that its wild turkeys I see. Toms trying to impress the hens by spreading bronze, black and white tail feathers in full strut. Their blue and red heads are bobbing slightly as they walk. Slowly, with puffed out chests and beards dancing, the birds circle the hens in hope of being selected by one of them as King For A Day. They look like portly politicians seeking votes in an election year.

Cattle are up and grazing. Mothers try to eat while spindly-legged spring calves follow along, noses tucked under Momma, drinking their breakfast. The calves noses and mouths are as frothy white as shaving cream from the warm sustaining milk they take in. A couple of little steers have finished their meal and are busy butting heads playfully while the cows that mothered them rip the green grass from the pasture with a shake of the head. The cows will load up, then take a much needed break and chew the cud while the calves nap beside them. I enjoy the experience of the natural world awakening around me today.

Spring has breathed new life, in color and in sound, into plant and bird, into every animal and man. Every new day is a blessing. And new spring days are almost spiritual. Any new day when you find yourself living, and not just being alive, is a wonderful gift from God. I’m grateful, as I take in all of these morning initiations around me, that I am able to see, hear, and smell all this Spring morn has to offer.

This surely will be a good day. It has, after all, gotten off to a beautiful start.