Just a Little Thing
By Jackie McGuireA few winters ago, we were deep in debt and
having a rather bleak time in our mobile home. We had just moved into the woods
that fall, and were still getting readjusted to chopping wood and carrying
water, after living too long in the city. But we began to notice that we had a
new friend - a tiny brown wren that would sit in the bushes next to our chopping
block while we cut wood. As soon as we were finished, he would hop down and pore
over the leavings, feasting on grubs in the bark.
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We began to look forward to seeing our little
friend every day. Then one particularly grey day when things weren't going too
well, I trudged out to the woodpile for an armload. Kneeling on one knee, I
began to pick up the wood, when down come the little wren onto the pile -
hopping from piece to piece, around and around me, while I froze, afraid to
breathe, fearing my very heartbeat might frighten him away. But on he went, and
closer, hopping up on the stick I was holding, then onto my knee. Hop, hop, hop,
he cocked an eye at me, hopped down, over to an unsplit block of wood. He
stopped then, looked at me again, said "Cheep!", and flew away. We
never saw him again, but somehow from them on, winter was not so depressing, and
I'll always be thankful for the friendship of a tiny brown bird. |
(Jackie and her husband and two boys live out
on their own “homestead” in western Washington. Jackie is a talented
contributor of illustrations and cartoons to this newsletter.)
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