Watching Birds with Vic

 

I was entering my data for Project FeederWatch today, and they asked, again, that we submit our stories of bird-loving and participation in the project. This time I decided to try it, knowing I had no good stories, but just feeling like giving it a whirl.

The question was about what gets us most excited about participating in the study, or what got us watching birds in the first place, or some such thing. This is what came out:

For me, it isn’t a matter of excitement. It’s a matter of peace. I much prefer the latter over the former, and there is nothing like sitting with the birds and looking out at the garden to find that peace.

This season it is more important than ever that I have FeederWatch to force me to sit down in one place for an hour and just be quiet. My very beloved younger brother, who suffered with cancer for the past two years, died last month. He lived in Manitoba and I was here in Vancouver, unable until this summer to go to him because of COVID-19. Instead, I would talk with him as often as he was able in the time before his death. He didn’t want to think about anything upsetting for the most part, and because I am also (less worryingly) ill I’m not doing a whole lot to report on, so much of our conversation dwelt on the birds in the garden and what the plants were doing, or what his cats were up to, or some animal story he'd seen or read.

Now that Victor is gone I am coping with my grief. Sitting here right now with my computer on my lap, the glass door open and the screen door shut, I can hear the sounds of the goldfinches and bushtits and the nuthatch at the feeders just outside. The Anna's hummingbird is drinking nectar a metre away, and hundreds of crows and dozens of gulls are crying out as they travel the sky.  Now a flock of Canada geese are flying overhead, also giving voice. These are things that Victor would have loved to share with me. I can’t help thinking of him as I sit here, trying not to wish he had ever been to my new home, or that I had spent more time at his, but to stay with the gratitude I have for what we had … and what I still have.

I believe that I will always miss my brother and always grieve his passing, but, even in the midst of the worst of my sadness, seeing the birds, hearing their voices, watching them scuffle with each other over food, I remember the joy that Victor and I shared while he was alive.

So, thank you, FeederWatch, for getting me to sit down and do (almost) nothing, for reminding me to simply be.

Image: Victor and his cat. Photo by Casey.