It is February, so, I have the theme song from Love Story circulating in my head and am seeking out that red beret that Ali McGraw wore so well back in the 70s when she and Oliver Barrett broke our hearts. But one does not need to be sporting a red beret in a convertible on Radcliffe’s campus to think about love.
Hanging out at the birdfeeder.
Sure enough, when I peer out at my bird feeder, I am able to witness all kinds of love right before my eyes. The birds are doing their part to show me the sampler platter of styles of affection. Some I am familiar with; some were a fleeting part of my past and some I aspire to. It runs the gamut. My regular visitors, the mourning doves, fan out on the ground and peck away at seeds as they comingle with the gentlest demeanor. There do not seem to be any highs or lows in their affection, but they show up and stay by their friend or mate’s side day after day. They are quiet companions. The nuthatches take in the whole scene and have a feistier interaction. This involves their undulating flight and may be accented by the flashing of wings, gymnastics up and down the tree trunk and staring into their partner’s eyes on the far side of the mulberry tree. The blue jays descend with much fanfare. They shout and shake the branches and sure look splendid against the snow. Their markings resemble thick ropey necklaces of bling, and their love is not for the faint of heart. They are loud and brash and always right. It seems like a little of that goes a long way.
In contrast, a pair of cardinals visit each day at dusk. They are shy and quiet this time of year and like the cover of twilight. They seem to remain paired up on every visit, and friends have witnessed them passing a sunflower seed to each other, beak to beak. I have not been lucky enough to see that, but they have plenty of other endearing habits that show their understated, devoted love. It is something to behold and frequently stops me in my tracks in my kitchen, and my pb&js remain unfinished on the counter until the cardinals fly off into the woods to bed down.
My most common visitor for the last month has been a large flock of house finch with their notched tails and rounded heads. The males sport red markings while the females are mostly brown. They crave the safety of the group and are all about having a big circle of friends and partners, and they can cycle in and out of the group. From my amateur eye, their behavior is reminiscent of the commune lifestyle which was popular a few decades back and apparently never went completely out of style. The group provides great entertainment, and more specifically, brings back the love choices of the band members of Fleetwood Mac or the Mamas and the Papas which were fluid, flexible and ever evolving. It was hard to take my eyes off the couples because once I did, one of them would change partners, and they never missed a beat while they did so. The house finches seem to be able to do the same.
So, as you ponder love this month, think about what the birds are showing you right out your window. Maybe a friend or, even better, a lover can loan you a red beret. I find that wearing one magnifies the feeling.