For nearly fourteen years, one of our Gray Jays living in the spruce bog forest seen in this photo was part of the study on these birds done by Dan Strickland, from Algonquin Park. I had no idea jays could live that long. Her name was Pool Toser (taken from the colour of the bands on her legs: purple over orange left... teal over standard right) I was priveleged to go into the woods with the naturalists, to see her nest, 60' up in a spruce. This poem is for Pool.
Jays Nest in Winter
Sitting close, against the snow, in branches
rocked on by wind with teeth in it.
Undaunted.
Jays do not go south,
Aware that weather is fleeting:
Today’s storm
Tomorrow’s sun…
Heat and cold mingle in the depths of starlight and snow,
Receding forever, until the stars are too close for touching
And the silence is fit for dreaming.
This beauty, these uncertainties,
These trials set by ever changing days
Best prepares the jays for living
Their faith as deep as winters’ night
And bright as spring morning
We could do worse than nest in winter
No comments:
Post a Comment