Common Birds 46 - Common Grackle

Monday, October 2

I am at work. Amelia is at home. Our son is at daycare. Today is the first day for all three. I’m tempted to complain about the social/political/historical/economic forces which pull the three of us apart when our son is not yet three months old, but some of the sundering force is also imposed by choices we’ve made, so I’m planning to enjoy what we have. 

First and foremost, being in the office means I’m back on the banks of the Merrimack, back with the creek, stream, pond, and river. I’ve missed them all. Since the last time I’ve seen them, the orioles and rose-breasted grosbeaks have left for their winter homes. The leaves are losing their green, but aren’t yet yellow, orange, and red. The cattails have risen to their full stature and burst with fluff. Today, the pond was overwhelmed with common grackles. Hundreds of them massed over the trees and rasped into the cool morning air. Grackles, crow-like birds with yellow irises, are not well loved. They’re an insult in Brooklyn Nine-Nine. But all things are beautiful in their time. A grackle’s time is when it is held by sunlight. The oil on their feathers shimmer iridescent navy, indigo, and gold. 

Now that I’m back in my favorite parking lot, I don’t want to ignore the random parking lots I happen upon. Yesterday, the three of us were driving back from a baby shower and we stopped at Panera to eat. On the way inside, I heard the high, cricket-like chirping of cedar waxwings. Once we were settled by the window, I held our son and we looked out at the waxwings. They were silhouettes against the fading light of sunset, rising from bare branches to snatch insects out of the air. 

There is a time for everything. A time for paternity leave and a time for work. A time to be an infant and a time to grow and sit and crawl. The season is changing. I’ve loved, deeply loved, the summer. Autumn revels in the beauty of not holding on too tightly.