Birds of a Feather

Birds of a Feather

            They say birds of a feather flock together.  Sure, I have a family that I flock with, but I often feel that I am a bird of many feathers.  My father is an eagle, strong yet graceful.  My mother on the other hand, is a crow, just plain loud.  In my family, I have birds who are flighty, birds who are hard working, birds who are a little crazy, and even a few birds who are just plain annoying.  I am a bird of many feathers, sometimes unsure where I fit in with my family.

            I have a sweet tooth and enjoy the sweet nectar of life.  I am a hummingbird.  Once I discover a location to acquire juicy sweet nectar, I will faithfully return year after year for a taste of the good stuff.  Should any brave soul, or another hummingbird, attempt to prevent my access to the delicious treats; I will dive-bomb them aggressively until they back away. 

            As a native of Oregon, I take to water like a duck.  The water is my second home.  Like many other Oregonians, I have grown the webbed toes of a waterfowl.  I love the feel of cool water cascading over my feathers on a hot summer day.  If a human throws a chunk of bread my way, I do not complain one little bit.  Instead, I dive after that soggy treat with the zeal similar to the hummingbird going after sweet nectar.  With my head in the water and tail feathers pointed to the heavens, I search in earnest for the starchy treat of stale bread.

In my youth, some compared my mouth to the wings of a humming bird, going a hundred miles a minute.  Now that I have gained of few years of life experience, you could say that I am more a macaw than a hummingbird.  I talk just as much, but sometimes the things that come out of my mouth can leave one questioning, “Did she just say what I think she did?”  Along with talking, I love to sing.  My musical voice has been compared to that of both the lark, sweet and enjoyable, and the crow, painful to the ears.  In my youth I sang in organized flocks, nowadays I confine my singing to the shower.

            Stresses of the world can be too much to handle.  In those times, I am an ostrich, submerging my head in the sand.  Other times, I am a male peacock.  I proudly puff up my chest and fan out my tail feathers charging my perceived attacker.  Numerous times, I have made quite the spectacle charging my perceived attacker or stresses.  I can be quite the nag; just ask my dear husband.  For this reason, I know there is some chicken in me somewhere.  If there is an irritant in my life, I peck, peck, peck, and peck until I eradicate the irritant.

Now that I am older, there are days that I am sure I have some pterodactyl in me.  I feel just that old, old enough to be either a fossil or fossil fuel.  Old enough to have experienced many changes in this world we inhabit.

            I have the sweet tooth and tenacity of a hummingbird, the conversation skills of a colorful macaw, the singing voice of the lark or the crow depending on your ear, the boldness of a peacock, the shyness of an ostrich, the webbed toes of a duck, the pecking skills of a chicken, and the age of a pterodactyl.  You can see with the eclectic collection of birds I am made of, why it would be a confusing to determine which flock I belong in.  Fortunately, for me, my flock is just as varied as I am.

Written 14 September 2009