Unflappable

All hail the wonder of the winged ones

A new episode of Threshold is out today, Behold, the Wonderchicken. In it, I reveal something that will surprise no one and yet feels a bit vulnerable to share: I am in love with birds. Sometimes specific birds, but really…all of them. I’m not any sort expert, nor have I put much effort into becoming great at identification. I just love these dinosaurs living among us, and this episode felt like the right time to let loose and show it.

Of course I know I’m not alone in this. Just yesterday I came across two lovely essays by other bird-loving folk: I Brake for Robins by Margaret Renkl and “Love letter to a thrasher” by Laura Paskus (thanks to Chris La Tray for flagging this one). I wasn’t looking for birdy stuff, these pieces just floated into my field of view. It happens a lot. In every culture and time, people have worshipped and mythologized birds, painted and drawn and sculpted them, written stories about them, made music inspired by and even with them.

All of this was a bit daunting to me as I worked on this episode, but I’m happy with how it turned out. It’s a three-parter; there’s an adventure in the Montana woods with bird communication expert Erick Greene, a conversation with Darius McCain, a young man I met at the RYSE Center¹ in Richmond, California, and then my personal ode to the winged ones. You can listen here or wherever you get your podcasts.

Since I’m going all-in on the bird love, I might as well do something else that’s a bit hard for me: share a poem I wrote a few weeks ago. I was working on this episode, when I happened to look out the window and see three sets of birds, offering three different models of how to handle a stormy day. I quickly jotted down some impressions that became this….

---

Couples Counseling

in the distance
where snow spits angrily out of grey clouds
and wind whips up the waves
two swans 
rock together 
on the sea
unflappable

close to shore
where democracy and economy and decency
are careening downward
two ducks
plummet together 
and then
stick the landing

on the lawn
where grass is greening 
as frost is biting
two crows 
decide together 
to open 
and let the unsettled sky lift them

---

Thank you for reading and listening. I’d love to hear about your own birdlove, or whatever bird feelings you may have, if you care to share.

I want to give the last word to the creatures themselves. Here’s a Song Thrush I met recently next to the Gulf of Bothnia here in northern Sweden:

1. The RYSE Center is a beautiful and valuable youth-led community center in Richmond, California. Check it out and consider sending them a donation.