BURNING BRIGHT
Is it possible that this bird scratching seeds beneath the feeder was, or perhaps is, a tiger? Very courageous. At very least, one of the zen birds.
We have slowly gotten acquainted. By now I cannot deny a growing sympathy: where is the best seed? And cautiously, curiously, I am scrutinized. Birds do not live by seed alone.
Zazen is not a threatening activity. Not much observable motion. Peck, peck, peck . . . . .what is going on here . . . . .suddenly stillness. A natural meditator -- perhaps this bird has deep roots as the saying goes. Not the slightest move . . . . .
As she sat on her eggs outside our kitchen window, Lady Hummingbird was like this. Very patient, absorbed in doing nothing.
Sitting in leaves beneath the feeder --. it's a temporary nest. Absorbed in watching me, not as a cat or a human would, but with one eye staring full on, head turned broadside. This steady gaze is unaccustomed.
For a long time not one blink, either of us. No thought, no difference. Almost simultaneously our eyes close halfway. Of course eyes need moisture, but it feels like when Tabitha and I share affection.
It may seem fantastic to imagine affection for a tiger bird. But then how about for a tiger cat? Tiger nature knows no bounds . . . . . . just imagine half closed eyes.
