Some weeks these posts come easily - and sometimes they don’t. This week my mind is spinning. There’s so much everywhere I turn. So much happening at work. So much happening over the lake and in the trees. So many photos. So much, so much, so much.
What should I share? The ducks who continue to migrate through? Northern shovelers, blue-winged teal, and so many adorable coots?
The swallows that zoom past daily? Tree swallows, barn swallows, purple martins, and a few more varieties I have yet to see this spring. Dancing, delighting, embracing the speed and swirl of the season.
The ospreys who have returned, at least temporarily? The way I watched osprey dive, come up with a large fish, only to see eagle come across the lake and attempt to steal it?
How magnificent it is to watch this chase, to watch eagle get close, to watch osprey drop the fish? How I’m not sure anyone wins in this scenario, but perhaps the fish?
Should I share how hard I see the resident eagles working every day? Chasing down coots, swooping for fish, looking for any way to feed the nest?
How a check in on the eagles nest reveals why they are working so hard? Three healthy-looking eaglets in the nest!
Should I share the great blue heron battles for supremacy, the turkey vultures, the killdeer, the spotted sandpipers, or maybe the beautiful buds on the redbud trees?
Everything is moving faster than my mind can sort through. Everything is moving faster than I can process the photos. It feels alternatively exhilarating and overwhelming. Amazing and out of control.
There is destruction too. I keep finding areas in the park where all the vegetation and trees have been razed to the ground. Places I have photographed birds and bees and butterflies are gone. I want to cling to what I have known, struggling to trust this too as a part of the cycle.
I want to slow it all down. I want to take it all in, make sense of it, create order. Yet as I walk I hear a tiny voice that says, “trust me”. That voice whispers of possibilities and reminds me that what comes next is not limited to the realm of the known. That voice reminds me this is a world of tiny flowers, butterflies, hummingbirds, feathers, ice sculptures, and more wonders than my mind could ever dream up.
That voice reminds me that a decade ago I was afraid to walk on a paved bike trail in the middle of the day by myself. That I didn’t know how to identify the most common birds and I certainly had never seen a loon. She reminds me that I would never have chosen this path because I wouldn’t have known it was a possibility.
That voice says, “Share it all. Don’t hold back. Whatever you choose, it is enough.” I stop and close my eyes. When I open them, I see a butterfly has landed on a nearby tree. I see the violets blooming on the forest floor. I hear the cardinal singing loudly in the branches above.
That voice reminds me that Life is resilient and I am made of that same resiliency. That voice reminds me that everything I love will be lost and yet love is never ending. Energy cannot be destroyed, it can only change form. That voice asks me to trust, unconditionally, to remember that after every loss something new has been found.
I continue to walk and when my mind swirls in uncertainty I repeat to myself, over and over, “I trust, I trust, I trust.” One step at a time. Just choose. It is enough.
Thank you friends for trusting me! I’m so happy all of you are here. Extra thanks to all of you who have and continue to support this work I’m putting out in the world. I am grateful for the wind, the water, the sunlight, the trees, all the bird, and each of you!
Wow just awesome pictures and writing! Thanks!
This piece was a gift, so thank you for sharing.
Beautiful photos—and not only of birds, though wonderful variety of species and that morning shot of the shovelers in flight is amazing. And superb writing.
The osprey/eagle conflicts are always thrilling, and you are correct, it’s hard to pick a winner. Thank you for sharing.