The Upper Eden Valley
Looking up, and who wouldn’t considering their call, a pair of Scarlet Macaw. Beak to beak, long tail feathers flying, wobbling atop a TV aerial. Well above the dripping icicles. So, the thaw has come. A welcome relief after two weeks of harsh weather. The Macaw said it all. Bringers of joy, uplifting stressed spirits. Noisy, funny and tropical exotic! Not your typical winged Brit. Not at any time of the year. They said so much. Spoke of much more.
This is the time of year when one would wish for cheer. For, perhaps, the thaw to set in where there is need of that. Hearts. Families. Extended families. Families of interest and of shared heart. Communities spread distant or neighbours in a row. And, thinking as wide and deep as can be. A call for a general thaw. A world thaw. However for now, here, to see the pavements again is a start.
There has been talk of family. Difficulties. So much suffering. And the incredible human ability to walk through. Scarred, yes. And not without huge persistent feelings of loss, rejection. Real loss. Real rejection. Incredible then, that general persistent life-time thaw is carried within all of that. We talk about people turning their life around. People can and people do. Safer to stay peeping from behind the curtains? Or so it might seem. However, sooner or later one has to go out and face the weather. Like the Macaws we tend to gather together in groups. The harsh conditions has people talking on the streets. Smiling shyly at the kindness of strangers. Weather unites like nothing else. Given half a chance and buckets of intention, in good directions, thaw happens.
Watching the Macaw. The bright scarlet Macaw. Now! What on earth are they doing? Pecking and preening. They’re rearranging each others feathers! Bless ’em. Birdie community building? All the while they squawk. Loud, low-pitched, throaty squawks. Apparently these sounds and their squeaks and screams are designed to carry for miles. They are calling to their groups.
‘Tis the time to squawk! While looking up.
4 thoughts on “Squawk This Christmas”
I just read the local newspaper where my Dad lives, I try to keep up with what’s going on in the town where he spends the winter, now without my Mom, since she passed away in June. There’s an article about the Homeless and how their day is really filled with lots of work, the work to survive and still be able to squawk, to let others know they are there, that they too need to be part of our human flock. It is an interesting article, things I have heard before, but good to hear again. This is a shortened link to the article: http://bit.ly/ii7Rpr
We have had a thaw since yesterday as well and it’ll continue until the late evening…then back to winter’s glistening cold that can draw us closer together.
Jack. Interesting perspective in this article. In particular the point about the amount of work involved to survive. Thanks for pointing this out. I shortened the link simply because it looks neater on the page.
Yes, I see a drip through the window I am facing. Falling off the guttering. Thankfully the guttering isn’t falling off! Happy days.
What an extraordinary contrast – your picture of the snowy trees and the image of brightly coloured parrots which call up tropical climes. How bizarre to see them. It must have felt as if the world was disobeying its own rules!
Wonderful to see you here Chris. Glad you like the wacky contrasts…