I think Mother Nature is an awesome being to have such a conglomerate of living beings inhabiting this Earth and navigating its many obstacles each and every day.
My neighbour has a bird feeder on her patio. It gives her great enjoyment to watch the many species of birds come to nibble their meals congenially. This particular feeder only allows smaller birds to find their way to the trough, so my neighbour would only need to fill the feeder once a week. Bigger birds cannot access the feeder. One day she spotted a Papa Robin, Mama Robin and Baby Bird flying about the feeder. It was obvious the parents were too large to grab any seeds. A few minutes later, Baby Bird was able to flutter his wings to the little railing outside the feeder, settle on it and begin grabbing beakfuls of seeds—seeds he dropped to the ground to his waiting parents. Several beakfuls later, Baby Bird managed to feed himself, then flapped down to the ground where they all flew off together. My neighbour laughed as she continued her story. “I only fill the feeder once a week but since the bigger birds figured out how to get the seeds, the feeder was empty after 3-days. The other day, I went out to my patio to enjoy my morning coffee and all these little birds were lined up waiting for me to refill the empty feeder. I tried to ignore them but there were all these tiny eyes watching me and against my better judgment, I refilled the feeder. Now I ask you—who taught these little blighters to put the guilt on me to feed them and who taught the bigger birds to use the smaller ones to get them seeds?”
Didn’t I say that Mother Nature is amazing?
Many people in my neighbourhood have a “deer” story or two or three or. . . .My building has a fabulous garden that serves a supremo buffet for any deer. Last year there were a pair of young deer who were taught by their Mom to walk to the crosswalk, look both ways for cars and then cross the street—actually, they barely got to the other side before they nimbly jumped over the rock wall, nibble their way across the lawn and work their way to the back where the tastiest ornamental bushes are. Nothing is guaranteed “deer proof”. whatever that is. The young teen-agers looked out for each other and proceeded to test-taste the camellias and the rhodos; munched on the pansies, lavender, daisies and bachelor buttons; tried the cone flowers and thoroughly enjoyed the roses carefully avoiding the the thorns. I don’t think anyone ever told these deer that some things were not good to eat. I suspect that being teenagers and away from parental control, they were enjoying everything that was supposed to be bad for them.
When Hubby and I had our house, the strip of lawn between our house and the neighbours, had a large ornamental bush that burst into tiny green leaves and tiny pink blooms by early spring. We named it the “Condo Bush” because, from our breakfast table, we could watch the many tiny wrens build their nests somewhere inside the vastness of the dense bush. We never knew how many families of wrens lived in there but one day, two curious robins decided to investigate and within 30 seconds, a massive flock of tiny birds had chased the intruders away. The survival instincts had kicked in when it came to protecting their families. And, somewhere along the way, the commune of tiny wrens had learned about “safety in numbers.”
Across the street was another neighbour’s house that had a humongous prize-winning rose bush outside her large living room window. This bush just dripped large lush red roses by mid June. We were walking past when a large male deer with spectacular antlers and his dainty doe ambled across the neighbour’s lawn. The big buck went right up to her large picture window and carefully scrutinized the interior. Satisfied there was no one home, he nodded to his mate and both proceeded to nibble at the bounty of delicious red roses before they moved away to check out another garden.
I guess this is another “bird” story but this time involving a seagull. Grandparents and their little grand-daughter were spending a fun time at the Marina. They had stopped for lunch on the patio deck and were obviously enjoying every moment with each other. Grandpa dipped a French fry into the tiny cup of ketchup and popped it in his mouth. The toddler watched wide-eyed. Grandpa dipped another French fry into a bit of ketchup and passed it over to his granddaughter. Before she could take it, a watchful seagull flew low and without pausing, snagged the French fry in his beak, leaving behind a feather. He flew up to a tree and shared his “catch” with his mate.
While on one of my strolls through the Village, a tabby cat with black, reddish brown and cream coloured markings, appeared beside me. He had obviously injured his left hind paw as he was gingerly limping on he grassy boulevard, heading in the same direction I was. Suddenly, out of one of the wide driveways, Jonah, the neighbourhood’s large St. Bernard went over to the tabby cat, nudged it with his nose and then crouched on the ground. The tabby paused and then, as if doing it all his life, jumped lightly onto Jonah’s strong back and allowed himself to be transported to his own yard, three houses down.
Like humans, birds and animals have a strong sense of survival. Like humans, birds and animals develope strong bonds of friendship—friendships that exists between the unlikeliest of friends. We can learn a lot observing the animal and bird kingdom around us. The bonds of family and friends; caring and sharing; safety and survival exists even there. As I said at the beginning, Mother Nature is an amazing and awesome being. . . .
2 thoughts on “MOTHER NATURE”
Such sweet tales, mysteries, and delights. Who did teach the little blighters? How did Jonah know? And the cat? How did they communicate? Great mysteries, wonderful tales, fascinating…life. Cheers
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That’s what I thought too, Michael–Mother Nature is truly a work of art–constantly in progress. I love the fact that the next generation learns from the ones before and before you know t, the animals have taken over the world! Yikes–sci-fi at play. . . .?
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