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A Bird is a Harbinger of Joy

As far back as my memory can stretch, I have always loved birds. As the poet says, “My heart leaps up” at their cheerful singing. I envy their brilliant colors, each dressed in a distinctive style.

Despite my love of birds, there were species on the eastern plains of Colorado I did not love. Sparrows nested under the eaves of our sod house and we had been told they spread the bedbugs that were the bane of our existence. Overhead crows cawed and cawed, and I didn’t like their raucous noise.

A favorite of mine were lark buntings, the Colorado state bird. I marveled at the male’s black and white coat and thought it unfair that his mate had to be so drab, dressed in brown and gray.

As we drove along our country roads, I would spy a meadowlark, perched on the barbed wire fence. Dressed somewhat flamboyantly in his yellow vest with a black v-neck, he repeatedly sang a happy-go-lucky song.

He was, indeed, a harbinger of joy.

Wilma Gundy

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