That Damn Bird!

Ever feel like you’re bashing your head against a wall? I’ve got a Western bluebird which won’t leave me alone until I understand what it’s trying to tell me.

I’m safely in Oregon, and thoroughly pleased with my surroundings.  It’s all I could want, except rattle snakes. Again.

Trouble is I am not physically fit. I’ve been privately pleased that I don’t suffer many of the ailments of just about everyone I know, but my arms, I’ve discovered, are pretty much useless after just a bit of back-and-forth motion, like raking leaves. I cleaned up my area when I first came, and I could hardly move for 2 days.

I finally had to tell my supervisors that despite all the Goodness surrounding me, I need what’s left of my arms for the rest of my life. About the only thing which doesn’t make me ache anymore is driving.

Today would have been the 69th birthday of my late husband, Tino, who died suddenly at age 47. I’m not a reincarnation believer, but sometimes you can’t help wondering if something is happening to wake you up. Like this bird.

So I said I’d remain until a replacement can be found, which shouldn’t be hard with so many Seniors looking for cheap living. We are parting ways in the most genial manner.

I’ll tell you one thing which offered me comfort since I discovered I’m not a good fit: there is absolutely nothing in my being which says I’m sorry I left to come back here. If this was the impetus to move my como-se-llama, so be it. Otherwise I’d probably still be in Austin, feeling stuck, dreading another sweltering summer in Texas.

He’s at it still. Even BC can’t chase him away. I don’t get it – why now, unless it’s nesting time but why harass us? He woke me up, fluttering against the windows.

So as long as I’m up in this part of America heading into the best time of year, I figure I’ll go exploring. I haven’t spent much time north of I-80, except when Tino and I drove cross-country and we ducked up into Montana, then down through Yellowstone and the Tetons, heading for Pocatello, Idaho, which for some reason at the time we thought might be our Emerald City.

We had lunch and continued on towards Oregon, which is how I wound up being a resident for the past 20+ years. Tino was from Holland and we'd hoped to explore the U.S. in a motorhome just like the one I'm in now, so as I drive I feel I'm fulfilling that dream because he's with me always.

That damn bird. He just stares. What I’d originally considered a beautiful bird with magnificent feathers is fast becoming a character in Steven King’s next novel. As it is, whenever I hear ravens, “Caw, caw,” I can't help thinking, White Walkers!

I must be more careful what I watch. Mom always said, “Be careful what you put into your consciousness, or don’t be surprised when it comes into your experience.” I’ve found that to be true more often than not.

So I’ll try to figure out what this bird wants before I lose my mind or my rig looks like a needlepoint canvas.

P.S. A friend says he's probably nesting nearby and is warding off his reflection.  Darn, and I was hoping for a sign.