12/2/10 Blessed by birds

This is a flashback post. I just saw a picture of St. Francis portrayed in a film with a little bird on his hand. And it reminded me of magic that I experienced with Fred, with birds. Here is what happened--I was making him leave one night, early in our courtship. Because my son was asleep and I didn't want Fred to stay over that night. So we were having that sweet goodbye conversation outside, where my driveway empties like a harsh apron into the street, no it was the wee hours and dark out and maybe he was showing me a constellation and maybe we were looking at star charts in the middle of the seldom-traveled street where it's easier to see the stars without houses and trees in the way. And we were saying sweet somethings I'm sure and looking at the charts and each other--it was the beginning of a few sweet something years. And all of a sudden something huge and weighty and dark and heavy and silent and looming rushed through the air near our heads and landed on the dead-end electric wire a few feet above. Swinging like a circus high wire act, quietly, heavily it sat--a plump, suburban great horned owl who had come out for conversation with us, I assume as well. We politely tried hard not to stare, but it was hard--this guest was so unexpected, or maybe we were to her, and so close.
The other time was when we were having one of about half a dozen breakup conversations a couple of years later. These bird blessings bookended the relationship, and we were sitting unter a blossoming fruit tree on the St. Paul campus, just trying to summarize the good things before trailing off, and this bird, that I took to be a hummingbird at first because it was hovering. But no, it was a bluebird that flew up from eating bugs in the park, flew up under the lightly-speckled with blossoms boughs where we were sitting on the ground, and hovered there, staring at us a few feet away, as we talked about its presence, color, species, meaning. It hovered several infinite moments and then sped off, just as abruptly.

I think now I will have to write about crows in the city, since they are the key to life here.