For the Birds

My husband and I recently experienced some big changes in our jobs and family. Possibly in response to these changes, I hung bird feeders in our backyard. In the space of a week we went from one feeder that hung empty most of the time to four which we fill faithfully.

While I have always liked birds, I haven't spent too much time watching them. Now all of a sudden I need them and I feel as if I'm standing on our deck and calling out, "Come here, guys!"

I wonder why.

This morning I continued my meditations in Genesis (the original thought was to read through the Bible quickly for a sweeping Biblical understanding of something I think I've forgotten now because it's been over a week and I'm only in Genesis 8), and came to the place where, after the great flood, the wind blows and the water begins to recede. I get a picture of the scene: Noah opens a window and in flies the raven who most likely had muscled his way out ahead of the dove. He (of course it's a male) shrieks in despair, "It's no use! We'll be here forever!" While the raven is having his tantrum, the dove flies out of the small, open window. She returns awhile later, salute Noah and reports: "Sorry, sir. Nothing but water. I’ll try again in a week.” A week later, Noah opens the window again. The raven lies in a pile on the in the ship's belly, the same spot he found when he returned last week, but the dove once more takes flight. "Please keep the window open," she chirps as she leaves. Scripture gets really excited when she returns this time; there's an exclamation point at the end of "with an olive branch in [her] mouth." (I'm sure the scripture, for which there are no pronouns, meant the dove to be female). A week later the window opens, the dove flies out (the raven is lying on his back in the manure)— and though Noah waits and watches, she never returns.

I cried when I read that passage. "What is wrong with you?" I asked myself. "It was only a dove, for crying out loud!!!"

While I like doves and their voice, the men in my family (except for Tim who can make dove sounds with his tongue) would like to poison them for the mess they make. But as I read this passage about the two birds, I begin to think of the relationships in that ark and the fact that there's probably a lot of bonding that's taken place in that smelly boat; lots of sleepless nights, lots of holding onto each other for dear life (men, women and animals)-- lots of compassion expressed as each holds the other’s head during the storm (and as each wonders if survival is really worth this and wouldn't it be a lot easier just to drown), lots of laughter (as well as frustration) as everyone interacts and gets to know the character of the other. But as soon as that door opens to the light of day—as soon as the earth appears and proves solid, they'll all run out to be fruitful and multiply with hardly a backward glance.

I know from experience that birds aren't the only created beings to fly away.

You'd think, wouldn't you, that after 20+ years the birdies would stay put. But no, they fly out of windows and run out of doors with a wave and sometimes a blown kiss. I wave back and return to the birds on my deck.