The Robin is a hardy bird. This one, unable to find worms in the frozen ground has switched to Plan B, looking for berries and other left over fruit in this ice-covered tree.
Despite night temperatures in the mid 20's this past week, the robins woke noisily at 4:58 this morning. Their outer rain-shedding feathers, and the fluffy underneath down feathers, keep the bird's body a comfortable 104 degrees. The blood in their legs and feet circulates so quickly, there's no time for it to freeze.
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wild and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
One pair of robins has built a nest in the flowering peach tree here. I can't help but think they were mistaken, because robins usually make their nests on shelves, under eaves or in a deep bush which affords protective cover. But the robin sitting on the nest by me is sitting right out in the open, exposed to the elements, the disturbance of the oil delivery, UPS trucks and ME, as I take my morning laps.
I thought for sure she'd have abandoned the nest the other night—the arctic blast descending into the Northeast—26 degrees with wind, snow and ice. But come morning, there she was, tail up and looking around for danger, or perhaps her mate who'd bring her something to eat.
We can say, "Oh that's just her genetic makeup—the robin's programmed to sit on the nest come hell or high water." I expect that's so, but maybe there's more. The stories of the saints are filled with accounts of holy women and men living in harmony and intimacy with animals which seem to know more than we imagine. St. Francis preached to attentive birds and calmed the deadly wolf of Gubbio. Walking along the shoreline, St. Anthony of Padua preached to the fish which sat up on their tails and listened. St. Seraphim had a bear for a friend. A lion dug St. Mary of Egypt's grave. Other saints had bees, cats, rabbits, deer and birds in their lives.
Maybe we shouldn't be so quick to write off these stories as just legends. Maybe the animals have another kind of knowledge and we're the ones who have lost the ability to perceive and value what they know. And if we think it's new age silliness to even consider this kind of intimacy, we might remember in the Genesis story that it was God who commissioned us to name the animals.
So here's my prayer-wish for you, springing from the attributes and imagined knowledge of the ubiquitous robin.
The robin's perspicacity be yours (yikes!)—
her still-sitting,
her non-defeat,
her shedding of the assaults be yours.
The robin's spring arrival, Yes, we can change, be yours—
her cheer-up-cheerily,
her courage through the drenching night,
her steely endurance be yours.
The robin's bright carol be yours—
her leaning into life,
her happy gratitude,
her frozen-ground adaptability be yours.
The robin's singing till sunset be yours,
her clutch of eggs—divinity blue,
her running and pausing, running and pausing,
her Calvary breast-brush against the Crucified be yours.
Perspicacity: insight, perception, wisdom
