Before I formed you in the womb,
I knew you... -- Jeremiah 1:5
by Lavon Page, April 19, 2002
Have you ever known a bird? I don't mean do you know about "birds". Or even do you know about a specific kind of bird. I'm asking if you've ever known a unique, individual bird. Not a parakeet or some caged bird, but a wild bird free to come and go as it pleases.
This is the story of Pinky.
One spring day in 1999 I noticed a small bright red bird near my back deck. He caught my attention because he was not a cardinal, and cardinals are the only red birds in these parts that I am familiar with.
A quick check of a bird book showed conclusively that he was a male, summer tanager. According to the book summer tanagers are common in the southeast, so I'm certain that my unfamiliarity with the species was partially due to my inattentiveness and general ignorance of birds.
In any case, Pinky hung around for a few weeks at least and had several very predictable habits. One habit was sitting in a small, scrawny cedar tree near the back porch. He preferred a particular little branch in that cedar tree, and on most days he could be spotted there during both morning and evening hours. Since the branch is only about 15 feet from our table on the back porch, and only about 12 feet from the deck, this gave ample opportunity for watching and filming him. (I fiddle around a lot with digital movies, so "Pinky" movies get played fairly frequently in our house when I'm experimenting with digital video.)
Also, during the time he was here in 1999 his mate was frequently seen. We dubbed her "Mrs. Pinky". She was similar to him in size, but of an olive green color, a very pretty little bird. But she was more reclusive and was rarely seen up close.
We enjoyed Pinky immensely while he was here in the spring of 1999. It was the first time in my life that I felt I was coming to "know" a bird.
In the spring of 2000 when Pinky returned, I was thrilled. How did I recognize him? Don't all summer tanagers look more or less the same? Maybe so, but the fact that I had seen only one tanager near my house in 20 years, plus the fact that the bird that came in the spring of 2000 had a particular preference for the same pathetic little branch in the same scrawny little cedar tree that Pinky had liked the year before removed any doubt. It was Pinky!
And he displayed the same habits as the year before. He's a very bold little bird who doesn't mind if I'm 10 feet away as long as I'm not doing anything that looks threatening.
His return made me wonder, "Where has he been for the past 11 months?" I wrote Lynn Barber (my personal bird expert), and she said he probably winters in South America. Some Internet research revealed Ecuador as a possible destination for Pinky between his visits to Raleigh.
|
| Pinky in the summer of 2001 |
After Pinky made another annual visit in the spring of 2001, I began to wonder, "How long do these birds live?"
I don't know the answer to that question, but I had the feeling that Pinky would be back this year. I got up yesterday morning and stuck my head out the back door and remarked to Jo, "I think Pinky might show up today." (I didn't really think that, but I was hoping, as I had been all week.)
Around dinner time I was at my computer trying out some things with a new piece of video editing software that I had just acquired. Jo was in the kitchen and muttered something about me playing "Pinky" movies. It didn't register immediately, but a few seconds later it dawned on me that she was hearing "Pinky" movies being played, and I wasn't playing any. I looked out the window and there he was, in the dogwood tree right over the back porch. It was almost as if he had located me through the window to announce his presence.
(That Jo picked up his voice is amazing to me. There is a constant drone of wrens at our house, and every one of them is 10 times as loud as Pinky. How she picked out his small voice among all the shrill chirping of the wrens I can't imagine.)
 |
| Pinky in 2002 |
I went outside with my camera, but he backed off to a tree about 40 feet away, where he sat and alternately eyed me and engaged in seemingly random cheeping. I couldn't get good pictures from that distance, but I started thinking along the following lines:
"I don't need to take pictures now, because I know as surely as I know anything that in about 10 minutes he's going to be sitting on that same 1/4 inch diameter branch in that little cedar tree."
And sure enough, I came back out 10 minutes later and there he was on his favorite branch (see picture).
Now this is sort of scary if you think about. Here's a bird (not a person, a bird!) that I haven't seen for a year. I've observed him for about 60 seconds. And I know exactly where he's going to be in 10 minutes.
Most folks don't know that much about their own kids.
Now I'm not sure what the moral of this story is, but I do know that I shed a few tears at 4 AM this morning thinking about it. For one thing the story tells me that there is a level of "knowing" that we're oblivious to 99.9% of the time, but which occasionally (and miraculously) by serendipity breaks through our fog. The sermon that Dave Barber preached on angels years ago comes to mind. Angels come in many forms, and their message is often garbled and confusing.
Pinky is some sort of angel. I think he's telling me that even though I'm not paying much attention there is an order about me that is greater than my comprehension. And "knowing" this little bird has in a small way helped my understanding of what it means to be known.
"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you... -- Jermiah 1:5"
Epilog: In March 2003 I moved away from the house in the woods. I suspect that Pinky returned a month later. I told the new owner about Pinky, but I don't think she ever noticed him.
