Tag Archive: animals


Change My Tune

When I sit in my living room, where the entire back wall is windows, it is like sitting on a park bench. The tree tops are higher than I can see; the gray squirrels run to and fro, with their tails getting fluffier by the day; the chipmunks race on the ground scrounging for bits of something, perhaps anything; and the birds whistle a tune all day long.

Birds are an interesting contrast to the other animals. 

While the others constantly seem to be rushing about, looking for something, carrying something, doing something, you seldom see a bird in the midst of gathering.  Even when you do, they don’t look hurried.  They seem to go about their work in the same manner with which they go about their leisure.  They are graceful, they are confident, they look no more hurried building a nest than they do when they flutter from tree top to tree top to meet friends for tea!

Yesterday, as i sat in my living room, I noticed something even more striking about the behavior of this feathered friend. 

I was chatting with a friend, and I heard a ‘donk’ on the window in the living room. I didnt’ see anything!  Assuming one of my Fruit Loops was trying to play a game with me, I hurried to the window to look for the prankster.

To my dismay, what I saw was that a bird had hit the window, and now lay on his back, on the ground, taking his last breaths.  I quickly called the boys to the window, so they could witness the horror with me, for the bird and I can not suffer silently, alone.  We watched tragedy unfold, as wing and tail made their final motions.  It only took minutes and yet I wished I knew how to put this fallen comrade out of his misery.

Sadly, we left the bird there, for dad to pick up.

And a bit later, as I sat in the window, listening, I heard an amazing thing.

The birds in the tree, who no doubt witnessed the tragic ending to a beautiful flight, and now saw their lost friend lying on the sidewalk behind the house (the arch enemy who killed their friend),

Never Changed Their Tune!

Their Song was as sweet as it had been that morning, when I first opened the windows and heard their melody.  Despite what they were suffering, their song was the same.

Is my song the same, regardless of what I am suffering?

Short Lived Dream

I sometimes think I would be a good speech writer!  I can prepare in my mind the acceptance speech and the ‘it was an honor just to be nominated’ speech.  I can’t give a speech to save my life (well maybe to save my life) but my voice would be cracking and my leg trembling thruogh the entire thing.  But writing a speech, that I truly enjoy (and some would say excel at).

I prepared in my mind the two blog entires Living the Dream, and Short Lived Dream.  You already know which entry I am writing. 

Miss Hopkins is not the right horse, at not the right time. I appreciate the input from family, friends and readers (who are also friends).  I had some time over the weekend to think and to pray and to gether information,  and while the child in me wanted to run recklessly down the path to horse ownership,  the adult in me as somewhere along the line become rational, logical, and self controlled.

So I will continue living the dream I am already in the midst of, married, raising children, living in my little house in the big woods, with our small inexpensive managable ‘furries’ (3 cats and a fabulous dog).

I will thank God for my blessings every day, keep my heart open to receiving every good and perfect gift that He has instore for me, and keep dreaming!

 

Impossible Dream

Everyday, when I rock Tiny Dancer to sleep, I sit in the window looking out into our empty horse corral.  Since we moved to our little house in the big woods, I have spent too much time, I am sure, day dreaming about my own horse living in that corral. 

It needs some work, the corral.  There are two sections of fence that need repairs, and a wind shelter needs to be built.  But a horse could be quite comfortable in there.  Space to roam, some grass to eat, trees to scratch against.   I envision me working the horse, on a lunge line, with a Perelli stick (is that what you call the thing you use to play the Perelli games?), Perhaps leading my children around the corral while they sit upon the horse, and we have quiet conversation as we walk along, enjoying our beloved horse together. 

 I have much to learn, but after 5 1/2 yrs. volunteering a local ranch, gleening every thing I can about care, and training, and riding, and perhaps above all relating to the horse, I think I could give it a go! Plus I have a few contacts who may be willing to help out.

But back to reality, there is no horse in my corral.

Then one day, I am offered the dream. There is a horse in need of a new home.  And I am in line for the taking.  The horse is one of a herd that is trained and ridable, needing some work, and needing someone with more time to devote to her.

Like a giddy child, I want to know What does she look like?  When can I meet her?  Can we really bring her home?  Is this true?

The answers come slowly, and I must wait.

But the giddy child in me can’t help but day dream again. What would I name her?

At the ranch where I volunteer, the horses that come are always renamed.  The owner of the ranch says that a name is important, it is the horses title, it is what the horse will hear everytime you approach.  The name should say ‘I am fond of you, I am happy to see you’.

I remember a time in my life, I was only 6 or 7 years old. And these dear neighbors of ours, The Hopkins, would come by the house in the evening, a bag of carrots in hand, sometimes sugar cubes too, and ask if we wanted to walk with them and feed the horses on a near by ranch.  I could find my shoes, tie them, and spring out the door faster than I could say ‘yes’.

There were a few horses at the ranch, but my favorite was Freckles. The big white mare.  What a doll! I would give her all my treats and gently pet her velvet soft nose.  I enjoyed every moment at the fence, and dreaded hearing the Hopkins say  ‘time to head back’.

From the time I met Freckles, I have never stopped wanting my own horse.  And it has always been the impossible dream.  So can I name my imaginary horse (because my corral is thus far still empty) Freckles? I could, and I did so love that horse at the rail.  But kids in school tease kids who have Freckles and I would never want my horse to think I was teasing her.

But MISS HOPKINS, now that is a good name for a horse I would love dearly!

As I sat this morning, rocking Tiny Dancer to sleep, I could almost see MISS HOPKINS in the corral, waiting for me…

But perhaps it is still the impossible dream.