My seat at the kitchen table is one of my favorite places in our house. It is where I eat, of course, but it is so much more.
It is where I enjoy the morning quiet as Becky and I sip our coffee. It is my writing desk where I pencil my thoughts into my journal, and it is my computer station where I tap in all those things that must be done on-line.
I try not to let my space become a stacking area for bills, notes and such, but Becky understands when I let that happen. She uses her space at the table much as I do.
I have a good view of the outside property from my kitchen chair. Because the light varies during the day and at different times of the year, each time I look through the double doors I see a slightly different scene. I can see the path leading into the woods. I can see two of the three feeders we provide to the local birds as well as to the ones who pass through at different seasons of the year. I enjoy all the birds, but I admit to some favorites. Pileated woodpeckers, for example.
They are large birds, the largest of the Indiana woodpecker species. Their black and white markings and the red punk rock tuft of feathers on top never fail to draw my attention. They come around often in the winter months, but not so much as it gets warm and they can get food from other places. I have come to expect that. Still, they had always stopped by for a taste of suet once in a while during the summer months. Until they didn’t.
Sometime last June I saw my last pileated woodpecker. I have learned to distinguish their squawks even when I can’t see them, so I knew they were in the area, they just weren’t coming to our house. Was there a reason they were boycotting? I at sat the kitchen table and did some research.
One explanation suggested “bully birds” will sometimes drive other birds away. I know that bullying has become a high-profile concern these days. Who knew it extended to the bird world?
Blue jays were on the list of possible bullies. Yes, I had noticed more blue jays this year, but I had watched pileated woodpeckers enjoy their fill of suet while smaller birds sat by waiting their turns. It was hard for me to believe that these huge woodpeckers with their sharp pointy beaks who can carve a very large hole in the side of a dead tree would be intimidated by the relatively smaller jays. I hated to think so because in spite of their noisy screeching, blue jays are also beautiful birds.
A few weeks into the woodpecker-less summer, as I was walking across the field toward the garden, I suddenly had a conviction that I was lacking faith.
“Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen,” I was reminded. My woodpeckers were unseen, for sure, but with patience and with faith they would return, this I needed to believe. So I relaxed and waited.
July and August went by, then September and October and still they stayed away. Then, on the last day of November as I was sitting at the kitchen table, I looked up from my work and there, pecking away on the swinging suet feeder was a large pileated woodpecker. He stayed there for a good while. And now they are back.
Faith is a precious virtue. Christmas is a time when people are especially reminded of how necessary a quality it is to a happy life. In the bleak midwinter, when things get darkest, that is when the light can shine through. And sometimes the light is black and white with red spiky feathers.
<em>Norman Knight, a retired Clark-Pleasant Middle School teacher, writes this weekly column for the Daily Journal. Send comments to [email protected].</em>
