It had been weeks since I sat in nature. With the new job and the onslaught of holidays, I couldn’t recall the last time I went out and sat on the land and visited with the birds. No matter, I have my routine. I have places I’ve built deep connections with that I’ve returned to over and over again.
But, it wasn’t that simple even with the routine. As I walked out to the Sister Rocks along Lake Carmi, the never-ending conveyor belt in my mind of job tasks, family needs, meetings, and balls dropped all creaked to a slow roll but never stopped. I greeted the Sister Rocks and the trees, apologized for my long absence, and started to unpack my slow birding kit: folding stool, a fleecy blanket, hot tea, and my bins. I pulled out my notebook and colored pencils just in case I was inspired to write or draw.
The kiddos and I were watching the Blue Jays noisily decend upon the platform feeder in our backyard. You could hear their raucous calls from a couple yards away. They were youngsters we thought, by their messy crown feathers and not so sharp colors.
I’ll admit, I was a little annoyed by their bawdy presence, and then I checked myself. This is the seasonal shift that Blue Jays are cueing us into; they’re one of the messengers of fall.
