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Red Tail # 3
Saturday, September 21, 2013
One of the blessings of having lived to be a person of a "certain age" is having time to think about things bigger than ourselves.
In the mornings, I have time to take a book or newspaper out to the patio with my second or third cup of coffee. During that time, I am able to watch the birds at our feeders and I have learned to recognize the fussy chirp of the chickadees and titmice, the "pip-pip" of the cardinals, and the squabble of a multitude of sparrows in the hedge.
Sometimes, while reading, I become aware of a silence - not a sound, even from the birds in the surrounding yards. I then realize that he (or she) is present somewhere near. It is usually a sharp-shinned hawk, but I have on occasion seen a red-tailed hawk sitting imperiously right on top of the bird feeder, casting those piercing eyes right and left .
These gorgeous creatures are capable of eliciting a gasp of pleasure when they swoop and glide effortlessly, but at the same time there is a shiver of dread, as I understand the reality of their intent and their need.
This is the nature of God's world, existing together: life and death, happiness and sorrow, ethereal beauty and crushing carnality. Today, we hear the silence of death; tomorrow, the sounds of joy.
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