Dove

Sometimes "grateful" must  function as a verb, with help from "be." Be grateful. Even if you are not. Even if you can't seem to muster up any gratitude whatsoever.

Did you sing this song in Sunday School?

"God sees the little sparrow fall, it meets his tender view; if God so loves the little birds, I know he loves me too." Did I make you sing? [Maria Straub, 1874].

Yesterday, feathers rained down from above. We never saw the hawk strike but we've seen enough of them that we know Sharp-Shin found his meal. We recognized the feathers.

You see, we feed the birds. Religiously. Actually, my husband does the feeding; I do more watching and occasionally, photographing. He's very precise, and they know when and where dinner is served. The doves are ground feeders, they don't come to the hanging bird feeders. They are rather clumsy and slow as compared to, say, the blue jays. And they have more meat on them - which is good for Sharpie.

Poor Dovie - he didn't even get to fall. He was swept up in one fowl swoop and probably, if we'd had our windows open, we would have heard his heartbreaking squeaks. 

Did he know we loved him? I don't know; probably not, as he'd fly away if we opened our door. But he did know where to find sesame seeds.

We also love Sharpie, but we love him better when we see him in the field and away from our birds. 

That's not the way it works, though.

The birds bring us much happiness. For that, I am grateful. And I am grateful that Sharpie's belly is full as well, but that is grateful used as a verb.

I don't have a photo of a dove at my fingertips, but here's a blue jay in my tree. He gives fair warning when a hawk is present, but it's usually too late.