Located on the colder and windier side of the lake where I walk (an area I have written about in other blog posts), it wasn't until recently that I saw activity there that reminded me of some wonderful things that had happened there some time ago.
It was then that I would regularly see a flurry of activity made by perhaps eight to ten small blackbirds, who would swoop down and attack the tops of people's heads, including mine, as we walked by this greenery.
At first, I found these attacks a bit shocking (as you can imagine it might be if suddenly something surprisingly pecked you on the top of your head!), but then grew to appreciate the way these animals protected what I imagine must have been their chicks hidden there. These birds didn't seem to claim a lot of space as their own, but the bit that they did seemed vital to them. I found this thought beautiful, though I don't understand exactly why.
I am thinking about all of this now because these birds haven't yet returned to this area, and perhaps never will. Because of this absence, I am remembering these events with some melancholy.
It's perhaps not difficult to see clearly that I have to sometimes be reminded of things that I find sad.
Where are my friends?
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