Sparrows

I think Sparrows are wonderful.

In fact, they're my favorite bird, possibly my favorite animal. I always feel obligated to defend this delight though. Other folks I talk to have other choices for their favorites: the Eagle (majestic and all that blah blah blah...), the Falcon (quick and ferocious), the Heron (graceful), the Hummingbird (tiny and beautiful), I've even heard the Flamingo (they are pretty funny-looking...).

But the sparrow? Usually they just warrant a passing glance.

So with this post I come to the defense of this, my favorite of avian creatures, and urge you:

Consider the Sparrow.

Yes, in color and size they are rather unremarkable. They rather resemble dirt and dust in their coloring, and they could easily fit nestled into the palm of my hand. Yet, this very coloring is what allows them to so easily mask their numbers. Have you ever had the experience of walking by a seemingly empty hedge, only to have dozens of startled sparrows flee your presence and inflict a heart attack on you at the same time? It's a thrilling experience...

They are the ninjas of feathered folk.

But how can that be? How can such a cheerful bird earn the title "ninja"? It's true, they are exceedingly friendly. Almost any outdoor eatery can give you a view of sparrows flocking to the edge of the dining area, hopping around picking up scraps, chattering and gossiping to each other and the patrons, and generally giving mirth to their admirers. These social birds will chirp within inches of people they deem nonthreatening, and gladly accept your offerings. I've even had sparrows try to cheerfully coax more tidbits out of me, cocking their head first to one side, then the other, hopping about and fluffing their wings in a most endearing fashion. Usually I try to oblige after laughing at their antics.

But never doubt it, these birds are fierce.

Soft, cuddly, adorable, and entertaining absolutely--and as fierce as all get out. These normally quiet and gossipy birds can turn deadly vicious at a moments notice--just threaten their nestlings to find out the hard way.

Have you ever seen a crow, falcon, owl, or even eagle soaring majestically in the sky whilst seeking its prey? Now picture the sparrow in its short, erratic flight.

I've seen all those majestic birds routed by sparrows. A pack of three or more is usually what it takes, but once that small band unites to drive the taloned terror away from their young, the larger bird has nothing left but to flee--if it can. And who hasn't experienced the sudden intimidation of a row of sparrows all turning the weighty gaze of their beady little eyes full upon you? If three or four can rout an eagle, what could an entire flock do to a mere groundwalking human? If you've had them divebomb you, you know that terror all too well.

Doughty and loyal warriors, these sparrows.

For some reason, though, they are widely seen as insignificant common. Nothing special, nothing remarkable--just a sparrow. Why?

Where the falcon, eagle, hawk, and many other birds have dwindled in number the sparrows actually thrive. The red-tailed hawk is a rarity, but sparrows are so numerous that a sighting isn't even worth mentioning.

Sparrows have what it takes.

They're wickedly fierce, ferocious and cunning in battle, but also cheerful, chattery, friendly, and adorable--proving yet again that "charisma is not just a dump stat." ;)

So yes, Sparrows. Lovely to chat with, laugh at, delight in, and observe at play and in battle. I hope you enjoy!

Dandelions

Hi all! Sorry, it's taking me a lot longer to write the post I've been working on then I thought it would... However, I did want to post something so you don't think I'm falling back into bad habits--like completely ignoring this blog.... ;)

A couple of days ago I was walking out to my car from work and decided to take the short route. There is a sidewalk that would get me there, but it wanders in a roundabout fashion--something I usually have no problem with, but this day was made for something else.

The sun was shining, birds were singing, it hadn't rained in a while (which meant the ground was solid as opposed to a morass of mud)--so I decided to cut through the mediumish swathe of grass that stood between my vehicle and myself. This minuscule meadow was populated not by sidewalks, but with a person-tall tree or two, and a huge horde of... dandelions!!

Naturally, I kicked them.

Keep in mind, these were the... well, I don't know the word for it, but these were almost entirely dandelion flowers gone to seed. They were at the fun stage, where they invite random passerby to partake in their life by tossing their seeds to the four corners of the earth. I thought oblige.

It started out small. A puffy white thing was by my foot, so I kicked at it as I walked by. A step or two more and another was next to my other foot--I kicked again. Before I knew it, I was in their midst, kicking bunches of the flowers to pieces with every step! It was bliss! And joy! And delighted my five-year-old soul to no end!

Then I looked up.

Remember those trees I mentioned earlier in my description of this happy place?

Yeah, I didn't either.

Thankfully, I happened to look up prior to impact. The trunk of the tree was mere inches from the tip of my nose--I leapt back & sideways, more than a little startled! Then I hastily glanced around, just to make sure no one was nearby.

Of course, someone was.

But, no worries! Being the college student I assume he was, the young man passing me in the opposite direction was completely absorbed by gazing at his phone, his ears preoccupied by his head-phones.

Thank goodness.

Thinking that I had escaped unobserved, I mentally patted myself on the back and resolved to keep my eyes up and have done with dandelion kicking. Except for that one. And maybe--NO, we must focus!! ... you get the idea.

Upon entering the parking lot my mind wandered off to make dinner plans and wonder what the weather would do tomorrow, all but forgetting the dandelions behind me. As I passed a--what I assumed to be vacant--bus on my right, I was startled by the gruff voice of an older gentlemen.

"Didn't leave many of them dandelions alive, did ya?"

He was laughing. He'd been in the bus. The whole time. With a perfect view of the mini-meadow I had been frolicking in.

There was no way of denying what I had done. So I owned it.

"Nope, no dandelions--but man, those trees really put up a fight!"