Thirsty Throngs

It was just beginning to get light outside. The streetlamps had extinguished their bright glare into my kitchen window. The sun was not quite up and there was frost on everything after another night in the low 20s. A letter was sitting on the counter containing seeds for a friend that needed to go into the box at the curb for dear Claude the mailman to gather and speed on to its destination. As I stepped outside in the chilly air the sound of multitudes of birds greeted me. What a cacophony it was. The hub of activity was across the street in the large berry loaded American Holly trees behind my neighbor’s carport. The Cedar Waxwings were having a banquet with plenty of chatter. The throngs of Waxwings had arrived yesterday with a clatter on the metal roof of the addition that joins the main house to the garage. They were drinking the water from the incompetently installed gutters that don’t drain properly. Sitting in the lazyboy with the laptop gazing out the window in between the typing of letters while listening to the takes offs and landings made for an enjoyable pursuit on a sunny afternoon.The small birdbath was also a much sought after spa because….The protective netting was still over the pond. Action had to be taken when the immensity of the numbers of visitors this next morning was internalized. The liquid in the gutters was frozen.As it was in the birdbath. There was only one course of action. The netting must be pulled back from the pond. The stones were frozen to the damp earth that held the covering in place around the edges. Effort and strength of will dislodged the rocks as the cold bled through the wool gloves.There must have been scouts in our treetops, most likely robins, for they have been seen traveling in large numbers with the flocks. Within seconds of the netting removal they began gathering in the trees, shrubs, rocks and fence around the pond. Something was falling from above, sort of like rain. Rats, I just washed my hair, too. Hood up I crept closer, tiptoeing along the wall behind the main house. The size of the pond was inadequate for the numbers of thirsty visitors so a constant rotation made for flapping wings all about. They allowed me to get within a few feet of the watering hole as they flew up and landed with reckless abandon. The thought materialized that an unlucky lift off could fly right into the camera toting voyeur and knock me off the wall as a dart whizzed past my hooded ear. A wonder of nature revealed itself this day of frosty beginnings. The heart races at the remembering of being allowed to stand so close and witness magic in real life.
Frances