Light of the World

On a recent Monday afternoon, I parked along the power canal in Turner’s Falls, pulled out my lunch and started waiting. A thorough scan of the geese resting on the water made it clear that the bird I was looking for was not present. Amongst the Canada Geese, the small, white Ross’ Goose would have stood out like a sore thumb. So I enjoyed my lunch, listened to Car Talk on the radio, talked with my brother on the phone, talked with other birders who showed up for the same reason and well, mostly just waited…and waited…and waited.

Waiting is the most common activity of birders. The problem with waiting is the pressure to do something else. Sometimes it is the pressure to abandon the stake out in order to look elsewhere. Other times it is the pressure to do other things, like laundry or like getting supper. Sometimes it is the pressure just to admit defeat and go home. This last is the one against which we always fight the most. But when the rest of the area geese finally started to fly in to join the original group the sun had already begun to set. Each small group of geese coming in for a noisy landing of flapping wings and squawking honks brought with it a ray of hope even as the rays of the sun slipped away

Then in what turned out to be the final group of geese there was a smaller white bird. It was now full fledged twilight but the white of this goose was still quite visible. Surely this was the bird—but how were we to see it well enough to be sure? At this point I was glad that I had driven the minivan instead of the sedan. I turned the van so that the headlights, just barely higher than the guardrail, shone on the water where the goose was.

This is the time of year when we watch the light slip away as days grow shorter. Thus it is not by chance that we celebrate Christmas during this season. Humanity is lost in the dark without God, so we look for the coming of the light. Sometimes we feel the pressure to stop waiting, to stop looking. The darkness falls around us and we think there is nothing more that we can do. But if Christ is indeed the light of the world then shouldn’t we keep waiting…and waiting…and waiting?

And then when the gift of God comes in the dark of night don’t you want to be there to see it? And here is part of the great mystery of each Christmas since the first one. Since Jesus has already been born we are not waiting for that child. In fact, we believe that this baby is now the risen Christ…whose new birthing place is not a manger, but our hearts. So, in a way, all this waiting is just to see if we will understand that the light of the world can and should now shine from each of us. Will you help those in need around you by letting your light shine? There is no greater gift you can give this Christmas.

I Hear Music in the Air

Bird vocalizations can generally be separated into songs and calls. Typically songs are the music of courtship, heard almost exclusively in the spring. Birds use calls for basic communication. They tell each other things like, “there’s food over here,” or “stay away,” or “danger!” Songs are usually melodious and sometimes complex, very often providing conclusive identification of the species audibly. Calls tend to be chips and twitters, often similar between species. Even after years of experience it takes some real chutzpah to claim to be able distinguish between the chip notes of most sparrows. A few calls are distinct enough to distinguish like the lispy chip of White-throated Sparrows or the nearly ultra-sonic squeal of an agitated Tufted Titmouse. Agitation is often a reason for calls. Ironically, when a large congregation of small birds chip and twitter together in a scolding tone it doesn’t matter if you can identify the noisy birds since they are aiding you in identifying a silent one. Hearing a racket coming from chickadees, titmice and nuthatches in the yard a week ago I scrambled for my binoculars in hope of seeing the bird that had upset them. Typically this would mean seeing an Eastern Screech-owl roosting, but this time of year it could equally likely be a Saw-whet Owl. I saw neither, but just because I didn’t see an owl didn’t mean there wasn’t one there.

The experience reminded me of the words of a wonderful spiritual: “Over my head, I hear music in the air. There must be a God somewhere.” What a sublime expression of hope! Hope is a precious commodity, too often in limited supply. Our lives are enriched and empowered when we can allow simple gifts like the songs of birds lift our spirits and confirm our belief in God. Harriet Freeman was a person who knew both how to receive and give these simple gifts. When we were laying her to rest at the cemetery last week I could hear bird calls including the high squeal of a titmouse. I had to agree, none of us, even the birds, wanted to let go of her. And then, on some unseen signal, the whole flock took off over our heads. I’m convinced that they were Harriet’s companions on her flight to that place where God lives, our true home.

Waiting for the Word

Every birder has to decide what rules will govern his or her lists. For example, I will count birds that I’ve heard but not seen, others will only count those that they get good looks at. There are two birds that are currently “asterisks” on my year list. Ironically, both showed up in Northampton this winter. The first was a bird whose identity is still up in the air, the second is a bird that may not have been completely wild.

The first bird may have been a hybrid between Thayer’s Gull and “Kumlien’s” Gull. I definitely saw the bird in question, but don’t have the experience or expertise to settle the identification question. The second bird was by nearly all accounts a Trumpeter Swan. The problem with counting this bird is that there is a chance that it may have flown here not from traditional breeding grounds for this species, but from a population that has been reintroduced to the wild. So I have decided that for the sake of listing these two birds I will abide by the decision of the Massachusetts Avian Records Committee (MARC). This committee examines the evidence as submitted to it and renders a decision. I have not always chosen to abide by their rulings. Once I saw what I am sure was a Henslow’s Sparrow but my report was not accepted by MARC. Needless to say, the sparrow stayed on my list. Sometimes personal experience trumps external authorities.

This made me think about the Bible. The books of the Bible were written by a variety of authors and gathered by the faithful. There has not always been agreement about which books belong in the canon and which don’t. Thus, there are the books of the Apocrypha which are accepted by Roman Catholics but not by Protestants. Each of us has to approach the Bible with our own “rules.” Some will attempt to take every word literally; others will see the truth of stories in the message more than the content. Regardless of your own approach, you are beholden to mere mortals who penned the words and other people who chose to call them holy. We all must accept the human factor in the process. Sometimes we all find ourselves choosing personal experience over external authorities, but at all times we should be carefully waiting for the word…of God.