“Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings when the dawn is still dark.”

– Rabindranath Tagore

We traveled this Labor Day weekend to upstate New York for the celebration of my father-in-law’s 88th birthday.  The party took place at a cottage on the shore of De Ruyter Lake, the third largest lake in New York.  Four generations of the Jones clan talked and ate and played and celebrated overlooking the water and surrounded by the mountains.  As the early excitement began to settle down a bit, I found myself enjoying the view.  There were spectacular clouds hanging low over the mountains that lined the horizon.  Here and there, a tree was beginning to show just a splash of color; and it served to remind us that Fall is on its way.

I found myself sitting with a cousin’s wife — just the two of us — at the picnic table closest to the water’s edge.  We watched some boys in kayaks as they braved the cool wind and glided along the water’s surface.  Some of the fourth-generation boys stood on the dock and dropped fishing lines into the lake.  Suddenly there was a sound of flapping wings.  A pair of birds fluttered in from a tree at the water’s edge on the neighbor’s lawn.  They flapped and hovered near the branches of the young maple tree that stood ten feet from our table and then grabbed the thin branches and sat for a minute before returning to their original location next door.  Back and forth they flew, seeming to have a reason to move from place to place and then appearing uncomfortable with the thin perches that awaited them.  I grabbed my camera and waited for their return, and they did not disappoint me.  SNAP!  I caught him!  A gorgeous Cedar Waxwing grabbed a branch and showed us all his beautiful colors.

The joy of meeting this beautiful bird for the first time was the icing on the birthday cake for me, and I lingered to watch him make his circuits until the wind called him on and he flew out of view.  This summer has been a wonderful time for me and my feathered friends.  For as long as I can remember I have loved the birds.  Having a camera that can capture their beauty has been a delight; and I know I will enjoy their pictures this winter when the world is frozen and the cardinal is left to stand guard alone over the silent, sleeping world.  What is it that creates this affinity I feel for my bird friends?  There are times when I feel as though I can hear them thinking, and I have learned to move silently enough not to disturb them and send them looking for cover.  I have always wanted to find the way to be close enough to understand them better and discover what it is about them that makes my heart sing.

When I read Tagore’s quote, it struck a chord for me.  ”Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings when the dawn is still dark.”  As one who naturally awakens before the sunrise, I have to stop and wonder whether there is some Truth that resides at the center of my love for the feathered ones.  Maybe they have taught me faith — from the time, at age five, that I would open my bedroom window and sing to the birds that welcomed the sunrise.  They stirred my heart then, and they still lift a part of me beyond my earthbound existence.  As I think about the waxwings, flying from tree to tree and hovering and fluttering as the wind moved the branches below their feet, I think of my own journey through life and the times when it seemed difficult to find a reliable perch where I could catch my breath.

What I share with my bird companions is the absolute knowledge that even if the branch should break or I should lose my footing, I will be able to fly.