Another change has been the recurrence of crows. In the past, there were large flocks, which hung out on the tops of the largest maples. There are only a few now but they definitely shake up the neighborhood. They stalk (and eat) the small birds and baby squirrels, and in return are stalked by the local red tailed hawk. I will hear cawing and look up to see several crows dive bombing the gently soaring hawk as it winds its way across my small piece of the sky.
Of course, there are the chattering families of sparrows who chased away the dainty goldfinches and there are a few starlings. An occasional woodpecker shows up to do some woodwork but they never seem to stick around. There used to be wrens in the shrubs but no more, and there is the rare hummingbird.
This year the most visible drama has been the robins. Robins seem to be appearing earlier and earlier each year. The snow — what there was of it — had barely disappeared when I saw the first of them hunting their prey in the backyard’s frozen ground.
For the first time a pair of robins decided to build a nest on one of our yard’s metal sculptures. It hangs just below the eave in the center of the garage that faces the house. It started with a few strands of dried straw and ended with a substantial mud reinforced basin.
To my surprise, after it was completed the mother robin deserted it. It could be that it was unstable or that the entrance to the garage was only about six feet away. She had started it while we were away visiting and so, she had the backyard to herself for the first few days of the construction. I waited for her to come back. She never did. I took the nest down and mixed it in with the other rotting plant life in the compost bin.
That was in April and now it is the end of May, and though I cannot be sure it is the same robin, she is back with her baby in tow. Mom looks a bit worse for wear. Her baby hides in the lower branches of our large blue spruce. Baby can only fly a few feet off the ground at this point, which is perfect for hiding in the lower branches. Her hiding place is given away by a loud intrepid chripping. It is annoying and I suppose that is the point. As much as mom tries to ignore it, she cannot.
The pattern seems to be that mom forages for herself for a while as the chirping increases in volume and repetition, and then, grub in beak she seek out baby’s open gullet and feeds her. On occasion baby comes out of hiding and chases after mom, not being able to resist the tasty morsel.
A robin is a meticulous forager. Standing erect, they move about 6 or 8 inches at a time, once stopped their heads will tilt to one side or the other. I had assumed (never a good idea) that they were looking into the grass and they may be, but realize now that they must be listening. They start to dig with quick jabbing motions of their head and beak until a juicy white grub appears between their beaks — gulp!
She then moves the next 6 inches, and the next, and on and on. It starts before I wake up and ends as the sun goes down. Earlier in the season, the big bright males were fighting for dominance. I do not see them anymore. They must have moved on to populate other regions, leaving the mothers and babies to fend for themselves.
I am not an ornithologist, so I may be getting some of the details wrong, but the gist of this article is that it got me thinking about Buddha nature. I have read the books, and tried to emulate it in the practice of chanoyu and in playing the shakuhachi. I can safely say that none of the above has gotten me any closer, but watching the lives of the robins play out in my backyard has provided me with a valuable lesson.
I can tell that they do not complicate their lives with introspection and expectations. They live it as it comes. If the first nest does not work, they move on to the next. If there is no grub in the first 6 inches, then there may be one in the next. If the big black crow gets the first blue egg, they lay another one.
There is a certain truth in the robin’s way of life and that truth has always existed even if the robins and my backyard have not, and even if I am not here to notice it. I guess this is about as close as I am ever going to get to comprehend Buddha nature, and I have the birds in my backyard to thank.
June 2016
