A Small Argument for Hope

I finally met the blackbird I’d want to date if I was a female blackbird.

He serenaded me as I read the other night. As if we need the 75,000 AI-created songs released every day when we have him.

And as I learned recently: the best singing male has better chances; he’s singing to win his mate.

Once he does, they’ll work hard to build a nest, incubate their eggs, and feed an always-hungry brood of tiny pink babies.

And if the odds are like those we watched on BBC’s Springwatch recently, they might have weeks of hard work disappear into the hungry jaws of a pine marten. Who, of course, have their own young to feed. 

Perhaps these ever-vigilant blackbird parents are a good reminder of perspective; their house martin, swallow, tree sparrow cousins, too.

They’re outside your home right now — catching over 1000 insects a day to feed chicks that might not be there when they get back.

Living in a harsh environment we’ve changed for the worst.

Some due to fly thousands of miles in migration later this year.

Tiny birds, flying across oceans and deserts.

Perhaps perspective enough to soften around the edges of our own plight.

If they can do all of this and still sing and grace our gardens so beautifully, perhaps we can do the thing, too.

Or, perhaps it’s a reminder that it doesn’t even need doing in the first place. 

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