Seeing Red

It’s a cold gray day here in Texas, and I needed something cheery, so I put on last year’s Christmas mix cd that I made, an entire cd of women singing Christmas songs, and forwarded to this lovely non-soprano, belty version of O Holy Night. I was singing along, rocking the proverbial rafters, waiting for my tea kettle to commence whistling, when a flash of color outside caught my eye.

I turned toward it, and was caught, breathless, watching a pair of cardinals feeding from the tray of wild bird food we keep on the picnic table (with a smaller table positioned over it as a concession to weather. The female was eating, the male, in his crimson glory, was perched on the top table, guarding her and waiting his turn.

I watched at the window, and he turned as if he could see through the glass and mesh and see me. For a heart-beat it seemed as if we communicated, and then the female left, and he moved down to the food, sampled a few seeds, looked toward me once more, nodded his little bird head, and disappeared.

Only after that did I think, “Damn, I should have grabbed the camera.”

4 thoughts on “Seeing Red

  1. I rearely get pictures of those things that I later recall as some of the high points in my life. Often I can’t even describe them well enough to make the story worth retelling. even though you missed the picture your words captured in my mind and in many others I am sure.

    Here from Michelle!

  2. I do that all the time, this spring I was driving to work & encountered about 20 year old calves in the road, they were all this lovely buff tan color & all very incensed about being driven through by me! I still regret not stopping long enough to pull out my camera & snap a few pictures!

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