He comes softly,
says the Owl,
without warning.
He sees
where I cannot—
into the darkness
of men’s hearts.
He hears
what I never will—
golden notes of truth,
the brass ring of evil.
He searches
where I could never go—
the broken world of men,
to find and save the lost
He walks
closer than you know
with all who worship Him
in Spirit and in truth.
Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.
— Hebrews 10:23 (NIV)
Opal and I had not seen a hummingbird at the feeder beside our little apricot tree for over a month—until the morning of the first Sunday in Advent, just as the apricot leaves began to turn orange and red. We were leaving for church when a hummingbird flew up close to Opal and twittered softly to her before darting off. She had been feeding at the Flame Acanthus bush near our front door.
Opal used to see hummingbirds galore all year at her home in Kingsville, and she missed her little friends. The prospect of a new winter visitor, like last winter’s, thrilled her.
She replaced the feeder that afternoon and hung a second feeder outside our dining room window. The bird returned later in the afternoon. She fed repeatedly until dusk, so we watched for her on Monday morning to see if she will stay here this winter.
This hummer is most likely a Rufous hummingbird that has lingered in the warm autumn weather somewhere further north. Her arrival on the first Sunday in Advent told us she is a tiny sign of God’s promises fulfilled and of his coming kingdom.
What signs of promise have you seen around you today that sustain your hope in the coming of God’s kingdom on earth?
The birds of summer have left.
We saw our last hummingbird, a female Rufous, nearly two weeks ago. Flocks of Sandhill Cranes are moving south too, in their languid way. The orioles did not pass through Wimberley this year, but we may see a few warblers.
Winter visitor will take their place in due course. We expect to see the American Golfinches, Lesser Goldfinches, and House Finches soon.
Monarch butterfly sightings have been sparse so far. Their main flyway may take them further west, or perhaps they have lingered in the warm weather in the north. If so, Winter storms will soon send them on their way.
The ancient Israelites did not keep bird notes during their journeys through Sinai and the Negev region of Israel.
One ot the curious birds they overlooked is the Arabian Babbler, Turdoides squamiceps, one of the Subfamily Turdoidinae, a group of 140 species of noisy perching birds called laughing thrushes.
Haim Watzman descibes the Arabian Babbler’s warning call as a bark. Writing in A CRACK IN THE EARTH: A Journey up Israel’s Rift Valley, Watzman reports observing the babblers during a visit with Amotz Zahavi, Professor ofZoology at Tel Aviv University. The attached U-Tube video illustrates the bird and its habits. Arabian Babbler
Arabian Babblers interest journalists and behavioral scientists because they live in small social groups that survive in a hostile environment by cooperation rather than competition. To do so, they need to communicate.
“Communication requires a sender and a receiver. But, Zahavi argues, no real communication can take place unless the recipeient of the message has a way of assessing whether the information he or she is receiving is true or false. The message has to contain within it an indication of the sender’s reliability. The interesting question is not why a bird sings but why another bird bothers to listen and to change its behavior as a result. … Communication works only if it’s in the interest of both sides.”
Every move or sound is a signal that tells other birds in their group and othergroups about their rank, strength, and cleverness.
Zahavi proposes that some apparently unselfish behavior among Babblers can be explained by the handicap principle. While a group of babblers forages on the ground, one bird stands guard on a treetop. Zahavi’s daughter identified the guards rank socially high in a group’s pecking order. Risking danger earns a higher social standing and makes rivals look puny.
Cooperation among Arabian Babblers is not altruism.
Zahavi concludes, “You can succeed as an altruist or as an egoist. But it’s more pleasant to succed as an altruist.”
I wonder If Jesus observed Arabian Babblers during his sojourn in the wilderness?
After a relatively cool interlude in July with modest rains, the Hill Country of Central Texas has entered another period of record drough and high temperatures.
Yesterday’s high in Austin was 102 degrees, making it the 12th day this year of 3-digit temperatures. Though well behind last year’s number at this date, the number still beats the average. Even so, you could be in Dallas, which registered 106 degrees.
Our sparrows fledged another brood yesterday, and the little wrens left their nest on Monday. We put out mealworms for them so they would not have to subsist on the poisonous catrpillars of the Gulf Fritillaries that feed on our passionflower vines. The caterpillars are all gone, prematurely, but somebody ate the mealworms too. Opal counted 4 sparrow fledglings at the bird bat yesterday. We have seen two fledgling wrens, but they keep out of sight. At least, we have seen no evidence the stray cats got them.
The Hill Country of Central Texas has had only one day of 3-digit temperatures, compared with 15 at this time last year. Clouds and very scattered thunderstorms held today’s high to 95 degrees. Tomorrow, Midsummer Day, will bring a high pressure system into position, and sizzling heat will return.
We haven’t had more than a swish of rain since mid-May, and the hills are drying out fast after a relatively wet beginning to the year that brought forth an unusual abundance of spring flowers. The rains during winter and early spring did not restore river and lake levels to normal, and groundwater levels have not recovered. Water use restrictions have returned after a brief relaxation.
Fort Worth has had a population explosion of crickets, but, as a whole, insect populations are low. Butterfly numbers and diversity are conspicuously low because of last summer’s drought. Birds, as a result, empty our feeder faster, and we see them bringing fledgglings to the feeder instead of feeding them insects.
The sparrow family in the nest box outside our dining room window is raising their third brood, whereas last year they stopped after one. Mr Sparrow lets his Mrs do most of the work.
Our hummingbirds remain as active as ever. They must have a nest in our oak tree, but it’s too small and well hidden for us to identify it.
The Hill Country has so far escaped last year’s pandemic outbreak of wildfires. That situation could change overnight with the coming of the high pressure system. The news of wildfires in Arizona, Colorado, and New Mexico dismays us, especially when we regnize the names of places we have visited.
We have Northern Cardinals, House and Bewick’s Wrens, Whitewing and Mourning Doves, Mockingbirds. hhummingbirds, and House Finches nesting somewhere close to our house, but the only nesting birds we can observe at work are the House Sparrows who have nested in a box within six feet of our dining room and eight feet above ground level. We have observed Wren fledglings take flight from the same box.
Their eggs hatched last week, and we have how observed Mr and Mrs Sparrow share the feeding duties.
Mrs Sparrow brings little offerings to her nestlings at least five times as often as Mr Sparrow. She flies directly into the nest box when there’s no threat in sight and pops out again in a few seconds.
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When Mr Sparrow brings a morsel for the brood, he avoids going directly to the nest. Instead, he perches in the lower banches of a five-ft redbud tree beside the post holding the nest box. He hops upward slowly, staying watchful. If Ms Sparrow arrives, he retreats to the lower branches of the redbud tree and begins again. Finally, he will fly to the nest box, cling to the outside, and deliver his morsel to the first gaping mouth that comes within reach. Off he goes for more, and Mrs Sparrow comes right behind him with a new tidbit.
Mrs Sparow seems to have the upper claw or last word in this Sparrow family. Mr Sparrow does not hold back, however, when a squirrel comes near. Both birds atack if the squirrel tries to climb their pole.
Then it’s my turn to intervene with a slingshot. I’ve scored a direct hit only twice because squirrels don’t give you time to take aim. Yet a noisy near miss is as good as a hit, and the squirrels have learned to watch out for the first signs of the window opening for the slingshot..
Let the squirrels fend for themselves. Our eyes are on the sparrows!
The spaarows nesting outside our dining room window have fledged their second brood this year.
Opal witnessed Mrs Sparrow coaxing the first two nestling out yesterday morning. Thew flew right off with her to the oak tree bleow our house.
Mr Sparrow took over the care and feeding of the third nestling, which held back yesterday. Perhaps Mr Sparrow did not do such a good job of feeding because we could see #3 protesting and asking for more. It took flight around 10 am and went straight to the oak tree.
Mr Sparrow staye behind to protect his territory, which includes a bird feeder visited by tufted titmouses, chickadees, cardinals, blue jays, house finches and varous doves. Mrs. Sparrow would try to keep them away, but they would return the moment she went foraging. Mr. Sparrow doesn’t seem to mind as long as they stay off his favorite perch.
The hummingbirds come and go as they please without regard for the larger birds, which don’t notice them. They chalenge other hummingbirds instead.
One daughter bought us a purple hummingbird feeder because purple is Opal’s color.
Friends, save your money. Hummingbirds may inspect purple feeders, but they do not accept them. They seem happiest with plain red feeders with clear glass or plastic reservoirs and yellow highlights for the feeding stations. You don’t need a huge feeder either. It’s more efficient to use small feeders, to change the sugar water regularly, and to keep the feeders clean. Bee guards don’t help much. The bees can wriggle through them and drown in the reservoir. Woodpeckers and orioles are strong enough to pull off the bee guards.
“Hon, see the Sandhill Cranes,” Opal called one bright morning last week.
Absorbed in my task, I would have missed seeing the hundreds of cranes migrating north through the Hill Country of Central Texas this spring—almost overhead and flying high enough for their calls to barely reach us. The flock divided, swirled and circled in an aerial ballet, unlike skeins of geese that forge ahead steadily. The cranes seemed to take time to make their cruise to their nesting ground a celebration, and the music of joy filled their faint calls like a hymn.
We read the biblical phrase “it was good” for the first time on the third day. God has not completed his day’s work, but it is good. It seethes with readiness to participate in his ongoing creative work by supporting life.
Sandhill Cranes do not migrate through Israel, but observant biblical writers were observant enough to remark on their constancy, in contrast with their fickle people.
Teach me, LORD, the way of your decrees, that I may follow it to the end.
Give me understanding, so that I may keep your law and obey it with all my heart.
Direct me in the path of your commands, for there I find delight.
Turn my heart toward your statutes and not toward selfish gain (Psalm 119:33-37)
Turn my eyes away from worthless things; preserve my life according to your word.
Fulfill your promise to your servant, so that you may be feared.
Take away the disgrace I dread, for your laws are good.
How I long for your precepts! In your righteousness preserve my life (Psalm 119:33-37).
THE FRIEND OF THE OWLS
He comes to places
shunned by men,
where we dwell,
be it early
or late of day.
“Peace, brothers,”
he says, and tells
our Father,
in tears,
how he loves you,
will die for you.
*