My mother and I sit at her window next to the bird feeders and watch the tiny creatures battle the storm. It is so windy that they are often blown backward even as they try to fly forward.
“How beautiful!” she says over and over again as the three male cardinals flit from feeder to snow to tree to fence, struggling for a solid perch to wait their turn for the goodies I have left out for them. There also are three female cardinals, and I watch as the genders take turns waiting in the tree from which one of the feeders is hung. I notice that they don’t use the feeder that is right outside the window. Too close for comfort, perhaps.
There were dozens and dozens of birds here all morning, braving the pellets of sleet to feed their all consuming energies. I wonder where they go to get warm. I have never found any of their nests, but the woodland here is thick, so that’s no surprise.
The sleet turns to rain, the rain to snow, the snow to sleet, and the winds turn the bird feeders and the trees into rollercoasters. But the birds hunker down on the branches, still hungry. Hungry and determined.
I will go now and throw some food on the frozen snow for them.
And then, hungry and determined, I will sit at the window and eat my lunch.