For the Glory of the Skies

Look up!

American White Pelicans, Limestone County, Texas - 9:48AM, 04/09/2022

For the beauty of the earth, 
for the glory of the skies, 
for the love which from our birth
over and around us lies. 
Lord of all, to thee we raise 
this, our hymn of grateful praise!

-”For the Beauty of the Earth”; Folliet Pierpoint, 1864

Extraordinary life occurs in the midst of the ordinary. Our lives are made of little steps up the mountain, a foot placed here, a hand gripped there - we are constantly seeking to steady ourselves, as well we should. The beauties of the earth are beneath our feet, and we cast our eyes down to work our way through this earthly life; only when we feel safe in our footing do we lift our eyes to witness the glory of the skies.

In the midst of the mundane we will witness the moment of extraordinary miracles - if only we look up.

As a lifelong birder, I have come to appreciate the small moments, the everyday birds that flit into my existence. House Sparrows, Cardinals, White Capped Sparrows, Great Blue Herons, and Black-Capped Chickadees - these are the faithful, always there, always within sight of the back porch. Day in, day out, they present themselves as jewels in the glittering edge of winter, singers in the sweltering heat of summer;

Then come the seasonal wanderers. Ruby-throated Hummingbirds, Cattle Egrets, Red-Winged Blackbirds, and Cedar Waxwings; they come with wings spread to embrace the season that called them. These are the migrants of spring, summer, fall and winter. We cajole them with feeders and special plantings to coax their return, and they do.

Next are the wonders, the revelations of the landscape - those who live among us, unseen unless they choose to be revealed. Bluebirds, Rainbow Buntings, Inca Doves and Caracaras… they are glimpsed from afar, or perhaps tantalise us with a visit to a watering trough in drought. They are the wonders of our world, sight unseen -

But then we witness the miracle.

These are the ones whom we never expected to see, although we hoped for them. We have read of them in our Birding Atlases, we studied their silhouettes, we have thought about what it would feel like, to see the great flurry of wings…

and they are here.

To those who live along the coast, it is no miracle perhaps. But to see the twisting, twirling line of the collective we, thronging to life in massive black tipped wings and flaming orange gullets above the prairie, it becomes the miracle. Miracles are not of our choosing; they come to us as God wills, and we witness them whirling on the wind, soaring to the sun;

then the Pelicans are gone.

We turn again to the song of the now, feeding for the faithful in our lives. We return to the sparrow, cherishing life as we know it, the sweet and familiar singing their song…

loving the mundane, remembering the miracles.