Although clearly not a Bluebird, this robin is sitting in the tree east of the monastery next to the birdbath that Fr. David cared for.
HOPE RETURNS WITH THE BLUEBIRDS
by Terrence Kardong, O.S.B.
It was one of the last days of April and I had to take a walk. Finally we had a balmy day that one could enjoy. So I headed west of the Abbey toward Highway 8, along the road that runs on the north edge of the old golf course. Now on the wire fence that parallels that track, Fr. David stations some of his bird houses, and as I approached one of them, two small birds flew off into the nearby trees.
I assumed that they were cliff swallows, for they usually inhabit those boxes, but I also hoped they might be bluebirds. After all, they were the ones the houses were meant for, but I hadn’t seen any of them for years. When I stopped about 50 ft. beyond the house, much to my surprise the two fugitives flew over to the fence right next to me. From the front, I could not tell what they were, but when they soon zipped back to the bird house it was obvious that they were western bluebirds.
For some reason their “visit” to me touched me deeply. For one thing, they are
usually pretty shy creatures. They won’t buzz you like the swallows when you get
near their nest. Or at least they have never buzzed me. But this pair seemed to want
to get a closer look at the guy with the white baseball cap. So they gave me the
once-
Why should such a minor event be so memorable? Why write about it? Well, you see, it had been a tough winter around here. To be more precise, it had been a tough April. We had a fairly mild winter, but when April came, and we were expecting some sunshine and warm breezes, all we got was cold, nasty wind. There was hardly a day in April that was actually fit to take a walk, at least a walk for pleasure and not for penance.
To add to the problem, it was also a very dry winter and spring. How dry? The
local papers carried a report from the weather bureau to the effect that the past
six months (October to April) had been the driest half-
So the prairie was very, very dry. After the dry winter, the pastures did not green up at all. This meant that wherever you looked, it was brown and grey. It also meant that the ranchers had to keep feeding the cattle hay since there was no grass for the cows to graze on. Worst of all, there was absolutely no moisture in the ground to germinate the newly sown grain. We were facing a severe drought.
Against this melancholy background, the strange visit of those two bluebirds was welcome indeed. Granted, a soaking rain would have been much more appreciated. Still, the mere appearance of two of nature’s loveliest little creatures did my heart good. Isn’t there a saying that goes like this: “In beauty lies the salvation of the world”? Of course, that isn’t quite Christian, but you get the idea.
Postscript: Subsequent visits to these birdhouses revealed that the inhabitants
were cliff swallows, not bluebirds. Perhaps the latter drove the former out, I don’t
know. I do know that they dive-
|
Volume 36, Number 3 |
Richardton, ND 58652 |
July 2008 |
