Every Day

If you are like me, and I will bet that you are in some respect, some days feel very ordinary. Many days are very ordinary. My Barn Owl this last week was an extraordinary day. My Chickadee days have been much more ordinary. What do we do for Bird of the Day for today? Well, there are hundreds of Chickadees in my yard, but no Barn Owl. In my earlier years as a Washington resident, a Great Blue Heron or a Bald Eagle would have been an extraordinary day, but I drive by them all the time now because they have become so ordinary. At the same time, ordinary can be really good stuff. It’s like the old sweater that you can’t give up. As Carole and I share our coffee in the morning, I am so warmed by the puppies snuggled in her lap. That lap and her every day presence are what matters. It’s what they know, and can depend upon. We can all get excited about the Barn Owl, or the White-winged Crossbill that’s not supposed to be in this neck of the woods – but is, but the comments that I get are more likely to be “I remember the Red-shafted Flickers from my childhood” or “. . . the Spotted Towhees on the farm with my new husband.” I get frustrated a bit when I’m not finding the next best wonderbird, but, my goodness, it’s not “Just a Robin.” Robins are a special part of what’s right with the world.


Ordinary is essential. If I didn’t have the constant flutter of little chickadees or nuthatches gobbling up my suet blocks and pooping on my deck railing then who would I have to harangue? My wife and cat have long since stopped listening to me.

That’s for sure, I mean “ordinary is essential” is for sure. As for listening to you, there is nothing that I would rather do. We all have something good to say, besides the bullsXXt.

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