The stellar’s jay swept up into the conifer like a spirit, dark and sudden and mystic. Cobalt feathers shone with an inner glow, for the cloudy skies offered little light to illuminate his plumage. A finely barred tail flicked, the bird shifted on his perch, and then his face was there. Ebony black with a thought of azure, his head bobbed under a remarkably plush crest. Brilliant white strikes above his eye and bill accented his smart look, an outward expression of the intelligence within. Sprightly and confident was he as he fluttered down on fairy wings to stand on the dry bed of fallen pine needles, black feet sturdy on the sienna surface.
Around him, cascading twirls of the most effortlessly beautiful music twinkled through the trees; the hermit thrushes were singing their praises. Timidly the notes wove delicate spirals, their tender notes caressing the air. The melodies filled the forest like fresh dew as the songs answered one another with tinkling shyness.
A bubbling mountain brook joined the chorus as it rushed over pebbles and by boulders. In a conifer not a few steps from the water, a thrush was building her nest. She flitted up with a large stick held steadfast in her dainty bill, and arranged it to her liking among the others she had woven. Her partner in his nervous manner did the same, his robust breast puffed with pride at the task. The pair traded places; she flew out just as he flapped in with a new twig. They were busy and could not be deterred.
Meanwhile, a harried mother mountain chickadee was hopping frantically, ever aiming to satisfy the incessant cries of her child. Though he was fully fledged, his hunger was begging to be satiated by his mother, and she could barely keep up with his demands. The forest was alive with the sounds of growth. The trees whispered as they reached skyward, the only direction they knew. Paying no mind to the quickly gathering thunderheads, they continued in their sure yet steady path into the heavens where, in time, the feathered beings who inhabited their branches would spread wings and dance among the clouds.
© Kristina Polk 2012 • comment if you'd like!