His timing was perfect. Last Jaunuary 19th; I had just about given up wanting to reside on this “God forsaken rock”. Life in those moments was one swirl of blizzard with north winds whipping, pipes freezing, a wool hat that was becoming too much a part of me; in a place where “wuthering” really did exist and it wasn’t very romantic. I believe he appeared just when we needed each other. His odd sounding pheasant screetch was like a precisely set alarm clock every morning. His cocky attitude-flying up against the back door if cracked corn breakfast was late. He was, I think farm raised and put up with my humor-the routine “Come on Bird” with a pronounced southern drawl. And I in turn put up with his (believe me!) when neighbors would tease me “Your gentleman caller is peeking in your windows” or “Oh, your boyfriend’s a colorful character!”
In fact it was Bird whom I dubbed “My Ring-necked of the Woods” and got me writing…It was Bird who was patient with all the other birds-waiting his turn when a Mallard family moved in, then being generous with the quail covey… It was Bird who also came every evening, sometimes just to sit and be himself- a pheasant. Last week for some reason I attempted to extend my open hand filled with seed. There we are grounded, in the grass, eye to eye. Then there was that moment of trusting -fulfilled.
A kind neighbor informed me he found Bird had been struck by a car yesterday. Bird,who made “My Neck of The Woods” an even kinder place.
