We Are The Birds

More lessons from the backyard.

Another branch fell and it's resting precariously on the tin roof overhang out the back of my house and into the yard. For the birds, this was 9-11 or Katrina. They were misplaced, mixed up, seemed like they didn't know what to do. I saw this round, gray dove-ish bird sitting in the dirt, then up in a branch --she didn't move from where she sat. I got out the binocs, but I didn't see a nest. I saw her round head, though, and her round, round body. And there's this cardinal, a wiry, bright red cardinal, hopping around, squeaking and calling, and bringing worms, I kid you not, to his gray feathered friend in the tree. Everyone I've told this story to, has reminded me that FEMALE cardinals are gray, and that the males are the red ones, and wasn't it probably a female cardinal up in that tree?

But it was not. It was inter-bird-tribe kindness.

Can't we all just get along?
I used to live in Altadena, California, home of Rodney King.