The little bird of happiness

One of the highlights of the intelligent movie K-Pax (Kevin Spacey, Jeff Bridges) is when Prot (Spacey) cures a person suffering from severe depression by asking him to look for "the Blue Bird of Happiness". This patient, being totally non-responsive to medication, is seen to find incredible elation in witnessing an aim come true for him, although the aim itself is no more than a small bluebird fluttering busily in a bush - an almost common sight for the ordinary person. The scene touches you at various levels.

And today, I saw my bird of happiness.

In the yard in front of our house stands an august gathering of hooked iron bars, from which are suspended several receptacles containing matter which members of the aviary species regard with esculent interest. One such receptacle, in particular, is an inverted pitcher with a narrow channel at its bottom, and contains a bright red, semi-sweet, fragarant solution. The liquid is contained within purely through the phenomenon of atmospheric pressure, the outlet being too narrow to allow the liquid to escape and air to enter at the same time. Unless, of course, an outside agency were to flutter up to it and suck the liquid out.

After weeks of moving into this beautiful cedar-sided house in the country, I have seen several feathery fliers that I could never have witnessed in my life in uptown Athens. Cardinals (scarlet streaks), woodpeckers (aerobatic experts), blue jays (bullies with ADD), chickadees, finches and bluebirds (size doesn't matter), mourning doves (clumsy fliers), waxwings (wannabe cardinals)...are all regular partakers of the hospitality of our landlord. It thrills the heart to watch these winged beings, flying seemingly effortlessly (except for the doves who make it look as difficult as it probably is), living a life of defying gravity, yet exhibiting personalities and mannerisms as unique as the human fingerprint.

However, once in a while, when the light is just right, and the wind is blowing in the perfect direction with just the right speed, there is another magnificent mystery of nature that manifests itself. With a drone it hovers over the flowers, gently persuading them to open up their innermost hearts to yield libations which only the humble bees can claim to have tasted. Despite its absolute mastery over aerodynamics, there is a quietness to its movement, a simplicity that mocks the elaborate showiness of beings even other than birds. The sheer innocuousness of the process is belied by its complexity - 90Hz wing speeds, stationary and reverse flight, air speeds of upto 70 miles an hour - unparalleled in any example of flight conceivable. And as I stood on the porch today, sipping my white-tea-and-honey, this 3-inch-long phenomenon made its way to the incongruously red pitcher of faux-nectar in the yard for an early morning breakfast.

"Hummingbird", I whispered/prayed.

For a second it flew at a perfect "standstill" under the feeder, quenching its hunger/thirst; and then it receded, turned and shot directly past my head into the trees behind our house. I turned to barely follow it with my eyes, while it perched for a moment on one of the lower branches of a pine. Then as I stared open-mouthed, it retraced its path by my head and flew across the yard, the road by it and the valley on the other side, a speck over the yawning openness, into the woods beyond the valley.

People pray for all sorts of things. For a mate, a job, a house, a car. Give me this one thing, they say, and I won't ask for more. Sometimes those prayers are answered the way they are expected to be...but at other times, when you know that prayers are not the answer, but you pray nevertheless, the Power answers with a gentle joy sent your way....

a little bird

of Happiness.