My morning walks have been a little rushed during March. Posting and commenting without changing my alarm time has meant that I head out for the walk, already thinking I’m late. This isn’t conducive to mindful moments or paying attention to my surroundings. Yesterday I was walking so fast that I yanked Farley off balance during one of his leg-lifting moments. Sorry about that, buddy. Naturally, he took it in stride.
The last few days, though, I’ve been trying to keep my head up and my ears open. It’s fun to spot the changes in the duplex that’s being built on one of the streets I hit. Hey, they finally finished that stone work in the doorway. I also enjoy the appearances and disappearances at the mystery house on the same block. Look, the food truck is gone, but the extension cord is still there. Wonder when we’re going to finally taste that authentic Canadian cuisine? And then, there’s the For Sale by Owner sign on the corner house. The gentleman in the house forgot to put his phone number on the sign at first, and then when he did remember, he only wrote it on one side of the sign and in his own 11-point Comic Sans that can best be read with a magnifying glass. I’m guessing he’s not getting that much traffic, even from the preferred eastbound customers.
Those all provide momentary interest, but for some reason, the image that haunts me (in a good way, not in the terrifying ghost way) is the sight of the ten-to-fifteen black birds sitting at the top of a maple tree each morning. They appear to have a regular 6:50 a.m. chirp and squawk session on their calendars. First of all, I like the look of the gathering. Each bird has a lofty perch on a separate branch of the leafless tree, with plenty of wing-room. Their figures, set against an early-morning sky, seem confident and maybe a bit cocky. It all looks very orderly and sociable, but it makes me curious. What exactly are they chewing the suet about? Are they bemoaning all the nearby trees that the humans have massacred in the past six months? I am. Are they plotting ways to snatch some of that diner food they smell each morning? I am. Are they wondering why ever since last week the crazy humans are doing everything one hour earlier? I am.
Hmm. Maybe I should stop projecting. Are they dissing the black birds in the maple tree one block over? I just noticed them this morning, and I personally have nothing against them. Are they scoping out the neighborhood, divvying up and laying claim to the remaining trees? Are they swapping stories about close calls with wind shears, vicious cats, or bomb cyclones? Are they plotting their own bombing missions? So many questions.
I realize I’ll never know for sure. In fact, all I’ll get are new possibilities, until some morning when they’re not there. In the meantime, I’ll keep my ears tuned for clues, and I’ll keep looking up…for various reasons.