by Karen Hirst

He stood close to the kitchen window with his hands cupped close to his mouth puffing air gently through his pursed lips into the hollow of his hands. He stood in focused silence for the longest time, the puffing action repeated every few seconds.

A crisp, snow-bleached day with an open expanse of ice hard Three Mile Bay on White Lake lying beyond the deck and the warmth of the cottage kitchen where I stood in questioning observation.

After a few minutes the mystery was made obvious. Within Ken’s cupped hand, a tiny, stunned chickadee lay open to the winter’s chill. With gentle persuasion Ken could be seen offering encouragement and comforting words to the little bird and in no time it regained its bearings and flew to the branch of a large Maple tree positioned close to the deck. It rested for a couple of minutes and then with renewed strength and awareness flew onto the sun warmed roof of a wooden bird house nestled at the lake’s shoreline.

Ken reported he had heard the thump of contact with the kitchen window and on investigation had discovered the limp unconscious chickadee lying on the floor of the deck. He was visibly touched by his up close and personal encounter with the little chickadee and in a way that no words can ever explain adequately he felt a bond of shared life with another of God’s creatures.

Wherever this may find you on this beautiful snow drenched day take care, keep safe.