Wooden Woman remembers finding out about hollow bones.
You know, hollow bones—one reason bird flight is possible.
Such a clever and intricate adjustment for weight.
AH HAH! and OF COURSE!
If you love the color green choose the lime colored budgie. Gold wire cage. Food. Sand. You’ve read up on care of birds, of course. And Wooden Woman, like most pet owners, expected gratefulness for all that—in the form of birdsong.
Unblinking eyes quietly looked through the cage each day, every day.
Wooden Woman wired in a little mirror, as if a reflection can be a familiar sort of friend.
Little Bird died on a vibe of heaven, cage having been moved atop a stereo speaker
for motivational purposes.
Wooden Woman wonders what message she should get from this.
She wonders about the time she ran out the front door and tiptoed down the steep driveway to get the mail and there it was—too soon without a shell. The beaky head damply stuck in the dirt, almost-ready wings elbowed out. Large eyes closed with lids so thin she imaged they might see right through this great loss.
No miracle of hollow bones.
No chance to be who they were meant to be, do what they were made to do.
Nine years ago Wooden Woman’s mother died.
Her death raises murmurations even still.
In the dusky evenings of winter months small groups of starlings begin to flock; others nearby who have been feeding together join, and as if by national decree from miles around they come THEY COME, and fill the sky with breathtaking choreography. Ohhhh. OHHHHhhh.
It’s called a murmuration.
Starlings couldn't care less about the complexity of Beauty. A bird’s brain is just not ready for that. Apparently.
Wooden Woman wonders if her momma felt her life was all it could have been.
Life so often is getting caught up in the pulsing throng, becoming like a cloud of birds, and if you don’t follow, you crash.
But you don’t crash.
Every now and then the cloud lolls over and turns back on itself and from the crispness of the edge…
And this life thrills you even as it troubles you.
The Audubon site says that maybe in 5 years they will know how and why birds organize in groups.
HAH. That’s what Wooden Woman says.
Here, take a look at this link.
Note to self: Bird bones are actually denser and heavier than our bones so they can be thin and hollow and not break.
Be kinder. Love more deeply. Fly higher.