Dusk Over Sooke Harbour

Watching a Sparrow

I’m watching a sparrow. He’s grasping with his little bird feet to the skeletal, barren top of a windblown bush, just by the shore. Both sides of the top of his feathery and fuzzy head are decorated with a screaming bright splash of yellow. His brown body blends completely into the surrounding bush but for this bit of canary coloring.

But what really sets him apart is his song. Perched with headstrong determination, steeled to the wind and grasping to a branch, he lets out a beautiful trilling chirp in response to one of his fellow sparrows further down the beach. As the wind gusts even harder and his branch sways by unpredictable turns, I’m amazed at this little fellow’s plucky determination — deftly maneuvering his perching as he sings out with almost intentional glee.

A really strong and sudden bit of gale blows him off the branch and he swoops down below the wind and flaps to a landing a few feet downwind, behind the shelter of the bush. I can no longer see him in the underbrush. I can’t even spot that patch of yellow.

But I still hear him, singing his sparrow song, undeterred at being rudely blown off his lovely high perch.

Today, I say to myself, I will be like this sparrow, and sing out regardless of where the fates may blow me.

Moonrise Over the Juan de Fuca

French Beach (Black and White)

Wildflower No.1

Painted Canyon

Columbia River

On the Road to the Crazy Mountains