Monday, May 2, 2011

Peep

Hope is the thing with feathers that perches on the soul.  Emily Dickinson

I have finches, three of them; that is what's left of my large flock that at its largest was thirty birds.  Over the last few years, most have died from very old age, living far longer than most house finches.  The flock was two clans, all variations of brown and white, or tan and white.  The three left are from the tan and white contingent.

I have thought about putting a posting on Craig's List for finches, hoping to revive the flock, but I've been a little busy this last year.  It has tickled me though, the persistence of these three little ladies, laying egg after tiny finch egg, and dutifully and lovingly taking turns to make sure one of the three is always on the nest.  They know to wait for clean water in the morning to bathe in, and two splash and flutter while the third waits her turn, watching from inside the nest that hangs high in the cage.

For at least a year now, if not a little more, it's always the same.  Lots of eggs that never hatch, and three tan and whites that pile in together when the sun goes down.  I do what I can to make them happy, mostly collecting nesting material for them, and placing it like a mini Home Depot at the bottom of their cage.  Small sticks and twigs and dried grasses are the favorites.  They go crazy for that stuff, and immediately redecorate the nest.  I love to watch and see the finished result inside their little house, all comfy and woven like a lovely herbaceous quilt.

When the flock was larger, I kept a large flight cage out in the yard, only moving it in to the garage during cold or rainy weather.  When it got down to these last three birds, I moved them into a smaller cage and back into the house.

To my absolute delight and joy and disbelief, there are babies just hatched in the nest now.  At least four, and still more eggs that look ready to crack.  I couldn't believe it.  I was so happy.  What an unexpected grand surprise.

Apparently, conditions were not right, until now, and I was all wrong in my assumptions.  They were right, my little finches, abiding faithfully on eggs they knew would some day bear fruit with feathers, and tiny beaks wide open for Mother food and love.

Three little tan and white finches gave me a lesson in faith today,
and a reminder that often when you least expect it
and have given up all hope,
Good arrives.
Sometimes like a glorious parade.
Sometimes just a peep.

Be hopeful.
Have faith.
Everything is not as it seems.
There is a plan.
Good is on its way.

2 comments:

fosteringcare said...

BEAUTIFUL!!!! What a neat gift for you, and to share with us....awesome....

Anonymous said...

What a welcome surprise for you! God is so amazing....just when we think we have something figured out, He says, "Wait here's my plan and it's much better than you could imagine!"

I can't imagine seeing chicks after having thought all your birds were girls! How cool is that? Ahhhh....life!
Love from the Fan Club, Faith&Hope

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