Normally, I don't get any bounces but this morning, something like one third of the 100+ people I email did not get the blog post. I am trying again.
Birds, they got wings. Right? I usually feel seeing this bird or that is not too big a deal. It could be and for some people, it is. But it is clear that the bird is going about its business, catching and eating bugs, finding a mate and caring for babies. Still, I can feel a difference in me sometimes. Like when the oriole visits.
It is the bird of Maryland and Baltimore but I never saw one until we moved here to Wisconsin. It is a matter of happenstance: Lord Baltimore, way back in whenever, had the chivalric colors of sable and or (black and gold). So the plumage of the bird was a perfect fit. The fact that it was something of a rarity in that part of the country was passed over.
When we were in Costa Rica, where there are many birds that we don't have here, the real birders were out on the jungle paths before 6 AM. I am not a real birder. Pictures, verbal reports, guidebooks, videos do it for me. Besides that, such sources are often actually superior to a quick glimpse followed by a heated discussion about whether that bird that just flew away had yellow toes or green ones. See, I don't care that much. I am not that crazy about birds, sighting, lifetime lists or arguments.
But when the shocking, cocky, assertive magnificent oriole comes to OUR backyard, I feel touched by good fortune. We haven't had the luck for bluebirds. We have had to settle for the aerial acrobatics of tree swallows, which are actually quite elegantly costumed birds. I am glad to have them. They are not birds of my childhood so they are exotic visitors and are clearly very dedicated parents and fliers supreme.
Still, it is the shockingly colored flaming orange and coal-black oriole that I actually feel grateful to. Who am I that I should be so lucky?