A Black Bird In The Garden

It’s funny the things you notice when the world is forced to stop for a few weeks.  My life has always been one of routines.  Mornings were often a blur of rushing around; getting up, preparing the family for the day ahead and trying to get to work on time.  From the moment, I open my eyes, I'd be on the go.  Some days the kids would be up at the crack of dawn.  On other days, I'd have to pry them from their beds to get ready and eat their breakfasts. The cat would be howling; screaming for her morning feed and rushing in between our legs until someone succumbed to her demands. 

Mornings were always stressful.  There was very rarely a morning where someone wasn't raising their voice or getting upset over something or another.  If I was late leaving, it would impact on my day ahead.  I hated being late for work.  The kids are little and don't understand the concept of time, whereas, I'm a stickler for being on time.  If there's a name for someone who fears being late, I embody that. 

Weekends were meant to be a break for the norm but us parents rarely get a break.  Kids don't know that at weekends, they are supposed to let us sleep on.  Well my two don't! Half past five, I would be summoned to go downstairs and feed them. For so long, I’ve felt like a zombie.  I was exhausted and never really got an opportunity to sit down and enjoy the world.  I was doing what most parents do; keeping the kids happy and safe, and playing constant referee. Life felt like a rollercoaster with very little break. 

Then the virus happened. Life has changed considerably in the space of a month, hasn’t it? Surprisingly, the house is a lot calmer than it usually is.  Where we would rush about, we are taking our time.  Mornings are slower but we are still in a routine.  Breakfast is savoured and the kids sit in the living-room watching old cartoons, while I sit in the kitchen with a hot cup of tea.  The news is usually on in the background but it’s not the sombre reality of the virus that catches my attention.  It’s the scene outside; my garden and the hills beyond.  Every morning, I sit here and sip my tea and enjoy that little bit of peace. 

The world is changing around us but nature carries on.  I’m a bird lover and over the few years we have lived here, I’ve seen a few different types of birds visit our garden.  Mostly, it has been crows, gulls and magpies.  These terrors usually frighten the smaller birds away.  I’ve seen a distinct lack of sparrows and other smaller common birds too.  I’d never really thought about it until now.  Growing up in the Highlands, our garden was filled with all sorts of birds.  My father was particularly fond of black birds.  He had a nesting pair who returned regularly and would even eat from his hand.  Dad’s garden was filled with tits, finches, sparrows and wood pigeon.  He’d never had magpies but of course crows and gulls were a common fixture too.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve spotted a little pair of wagtails who regularly come and help themselves to the worms in our garden.  There must be a good supply as they come to see us two or three times a day.  They happily bound about the garden and help themselves, much to the joy of our cat who likes to watch them from the window.  I’m under no illusion that her motives are slightly sinister.  She’s never brought us a bird but she’s a cat, I’d never put anything past her.  Thankfully, she’s old and much happier with her Felix than having to hunt for food.

This year will be the fifth year since Dad left us.  People always say if a robin comes into your garden, a loved one is sending a message from heaven.  I never really believed that Dad would come as a robin.  He loved them but they weren’t his favourite birds.   I always said if he came back to say ‘hello’ it’d be as a black bird.

I’ve lived here four years and we have only seen a black bird twice before; one shortly after my younger son was born and another, when my mother was down visiting.  These are not regular visits to our garden so I believe he was coming around to make his presence known.  This week, we’ve had a couple of visits from a black bird.  He’s such a beautiful little guy who has come close to the window, while I’ve been sitting here watching the world outside.  He didn’t seem interested in catching worms.  He moved quickly around the garden, trying to see if we were paying attention.  He happily bounded about and fluffed out his wings.  He stayed around for a while before simply helping himself to a big worm and jumping onto the fence. He left as quickly, as he appeared.

In this time of unknown and uncertainly, this little bird gives me hope.  It reminds me that it is important to take that time to breathe and to stop and appreciate the world around me.  Life will continue to go on and we can get caught up in our crazy routines but it is important to take stock.  These little signs remind me that even when someone has gone, they are still around to guide us and to help us through the tough times. We are never alone. Nature has certainly continued to thrive while us humans are fearing this terrible virus.  When this is over, I am going remind myself to stop and savour my beautiful backdrop.  I try not to take life for granted and hope that my children will appreciate the time we’ve had as a family.  

We all need a little black bird to come into our lives every now and again, to remind us that life is far too short to let it waste away with routines.  This will all become a memory for most of us but I hope we allow for the world to stay still every now and again.