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  • Writer's pictureJamie Leat

Pasture News | The Soul of Birds


Mountie and Natasha introduced six baby geese to the world April 22, 2019.

A fresh, wet blanket of dew covers the green pasture. Tiny water droplets shimmer like sequins in the early morning sunlight. Sitting in the patio chair, I still myself as the usual birds arrive.


Two emerald green herons float above the treeline. They start their slow descent into the safety of the neighbor's overgrown pond. For the next few hours, they hunt for frogs in the shallow water.


A bluebird watches for statuesque grasshoppers in the freshly mown backyard. With his piercing eyes, he spots a green delicacy and swoops in for breakfast.


A nervous female hummingbird, hungry yet too afraid to linger at the feeder, dashes in for a quick drink of nectar. One big slurp and off she flies.


High in the thermals, graceful swallows dart in and out of the milky, gray, clouds. With strategic skill, they pluck tiny bugs from the air.


And, Mountie (as I named him), the majestic Canadian goose rests among the tall grass. He waits... patiently, quietly, faithfully. He guards his hidden mate who sits on a nest of fragile eggs. They do not feed much right now.


As I sit, my mind slows, and I notice how each bird mirrors a way in which I tend my soul.


Sometimes like the herons, I stick close to my comfortable places. I need safety and security.


Sometimes like the bluebird, I feed in a plot tended by someone else. I need community.


Most of the time, however, I resemble the hummingbird. I am anxious, too afraid, or too busy to feed my soul. I swoop in for a quick slurp of food before buzzing off to less important matters. I need another to feed me.


But every now and then, courage rises up within. The Spirit lifting me to feed high in the air with stealth and speed like the swallows. I feed on a fresh new vision of God. I need God.


All good... each a way of tending to the needs of my soul.


But, what I desire most is to be like Mountie - faithful, still, on alert, waiting for the new birth to happen. Attentive to my surroundings. Undeterred by the activity around me... waiting, watching, for hidden goodness to crack its delicate shell.

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