On New Year’s Day morning the birds will flock to the feeder not long after Orion the Hunter has finished stalking the night sky, east to west. Off and on I will watch the variety of birds that frequent this easy, seedy diner.
Another morning. A morning when I have resolutions in my head, some even on paper, as if a cold morning in early winter sparks wanted, or needed, changes in my life. I can hope.
But the birds and all their wild brethren should perhaps be studied and copied more closely for a clue about resolutions. They have none, but they are resolute.
The finches, cardinals and chickadees at the feeder are resolute to survive winter, feeding that internal fire of fat while puffing out feathers for insulation. The birds are resolute to reach a warm day in May, when a nesting urge sends them into song and nest construction.
Whitetail deer are resolute in the woodlands to also survive the season of cold and snow, the does carrying their fawns from fall to spring, from breeding to birthing, from falling leaves to fields of clover.
If the birds and animals are my guide, then my resolution should be to take one day at a time, not rushing time, only following time while allowing it to carry me from season to season, solstice to solstice.
I often exist in fits of hurry, the only order in the day that of what needs attention next. Is everything on my list checked off? Has the day produced something big, at least in my eyes?
Nature, however, pays calm, instinctive attention to the daily small stuff while staying resolute on the big picture, that vast canvas of survival. They paint it slowly, deliberately. I should, too.