BORN for FLIGHT
Spring brings the return of all the birds to my small country property. Sparrows, hummingbirds, robins, chickadees and jays, I love watching them all.
Most mornings the view out my dining room window is graced with a polite line-up of feathered friends perched on staggered stones waiting for their turn to use the top of my fountain as a bird bath. There’s typically one that tries to chase off newcomers, but most are inclined to graciously share.
They fly around my field, roost on my rooftop peaks, nestle in my bushes and trees. Combined with a bit of sunshine, their sounds remind me that I have nearly survived another drab Oregon winter.
Summer is coming, their songs declare, you can make it through the last months of rain.
Of all the winged ones that grace my home, I’d argue the Stellar’s Jays are the most stunning, the one woodpecker that likes the metal roof vent of my fireplace, the most annoying. The hummingbirds are whimsical and evoke memories of my grandma, and the doves make the most beautiful cooing noises.
But my hands down favorite is the quail.
Such an odd and completely captivating bird.
Graced with a quirky feathered topknot, quail parents breed, hatch chicks and then remain together as a family. The annual end result is a frenzied pack of quail running up and down my driveway and through my bushes, mom and dad flanking the ends, baby birds with updos scurrying in between.
It makes me giggle every time.
But the funniest thing about quail is that they seem to try to avoid flight. Atop two quick-moving little legs, they dart and scurry around at ground level, taking to the sky only as a startled last resort.
We tend to think of birds as meant for the air and yet this one, complete with its stylish hairdo, simply chooses not to venture there.
Equipped for flight, yet grounded by choice.
While Google informs me that a quail’s weight makes flight avoidance more energy efficient, I can’t help but dwell on that lingering thought.
Equipped for flight, yet grounded by choice.
How many times do we do that?
Each of us was born for metaphorical flight, meant to reach the fullness of our abilities, our hopes and our potential. But with flight comes with the risk of uncharted places. With flight comes the trading of our ground-dwelling comfort for that which is unknown.
We have wings yet choose not to fly. Built to dream yet bottled by reality. Made for ‘more’ and yet sometimes self-contained to ‘less.’
What convinces us that we are not worthy of the air?
As I watch my quail I wonder…what convinces me?