New appreciation

Terry Tempest Williams has helped me to come to appreciate birds much more than I ever did. I have to admit, with Hitchcock movies and stories like Poe's "The Raven" and the Grimm Brothers' "The Juniper Tree" I have always had some kind of dread of birds, as if they were supernatural creatures. This morning, I sit at my desk before sunrise and I hear the songs of several different species filtering through my window, and it's so refreshing that I cannot imagine having ever dreaded them.

In Refuge, Terry Tempest Williams found comfort in the familiarity of the birds, even when the Great Salt Lake was rising and when her mother was dying. The scene in which she prepares the body of the deceased whistling swan is so idyllic and moving and deeply metaphoric. I looked up the whistling swan, and it really is a beautiful bird. She knew each of the birds intimately, and her heart broke as theirs did, slowly as she watched their habitat drown, bit by bit.

I have watched birds a few times in my life. Truthfully, it has never greatly interested me. Until now. I never cared about putting a name to a new bird; they were simply all birds to me. But it might be fun to watch them come and go, become familiar with the frequenters and, like Terry Tempest Williams, become filled with excitement when a rarer species makes an appearance. Birds really are beautiful to listen to, and their colors and shapes are all so varied. I just never noticed before.