A Quiet Easter

Except for birdsong, it's a quiet Easter here. Yesterday we had some migrating visitors at the birdfeeders. Two female rose-breasted grosbeaks faced down the cardinals for a seed snack. We have also had the catbird and brown thrasher coming more often than usual. A few goldfinches are still here.

I still have not identified the bird with the four note song. When I leave for work, I keep my window rolled down as I drive to the main road, listening to the birds start the day.

I lied when I spoke philosophically about not being able to see Bobby and Rosie on their nest with their two hatchlings, Orla and Silver. I miss the intimate view of their tender parenting, I miss the view of Washington Square Park beyond the nest, and I miss the little community of nest watchers. It was not the most sophisticated nest cam, but it was my first and only nest cam experience for three years. On a day like today I could see people walking around the fountain. On a stormy day I could see the trees moving with the wind. At night I could see car headlights moving past the arch on the other side of the park. I imagined what it was like for the eyasses, watching their parents fly off the ledge, knowing someday they would make the jump to the distant and unknown trees.

Now I am getting to know Ezra and Big Red at Cornell. I'm grateful there is another place to watch a red-tailed hawk nest.

Easter is a time of renewal. I was baptized on Easter many years ago. It was snowing in Nashville that day, just a small flurry in the morning. New Year's Eve is the time when most people make their resolutions to live a better life, but for me it is at Easter that I am filled with hope that I can improve myself.