The Chirring Grove

Mid afternoon I decided to leave my household tasks and indulge in the mild mid-day sunshine. My spirits have been bogged down from the long nights and days of hibernation from the winter winds of Wyoming. I am just recuperating from a devastating stomach virus and needed to recharge my batteries. Besides there is new life basking their little black shiny bodies in the sun. The calves have begun to arrive.The new calves of the year always seem to prefer the coldest night in weeks to arrive. We had two when the temperature dropped to 9 degrees that night. We lost a big bull calf. Now there are four so I take my camera with me.


Walking along the rise above the stand of Russian olive trees down by the creek, I see the calves are nestled in here and there. Their mothers are nearby. I hear a curious chirring. The whole grove is vibrating with hundereds of Bohemian waxwings. I want to bath myself in the sound, to laydown and soak it all in, to sooth my soul. I walk gently into the grove and the birds appear to enjoy my company. Unalarmed, they flit around from tree to tree, over head, and perch nearby to observe me, never interrupting the flow of the song. As I lie there on the ground I begin to hear underlying converations amongst birds. Sharing a Bohemian heritage, (my grandmother says we have Gypsy blood) I feel a kinship with the newest flock to grace our shared space.




Text © 2004 Mona E. Dunn