Fall slowly but surely giving way to winter
Trees that were lately a cheerful green, then a glowing gold, are now naked, standing silent watch over leafy forest floors.
The blue above has given way to gray, dreary clouds of winter and the robins are gone. Why am I still here? Perhaps I am foolish, but I am not alone in my foolishness. As if summer were a 12-month season; cardinals, black-capped chickadees, jays, nuthatches, titmice and mourning doves still frequent the bird feeder. Whether they know it or not, like a thousand generations before them, they will soon shiver in the chilling damp and cold.
Squirrels and chipmunks, however, are especially busy as they top off their larders in preparation for the possibility of barren food sources covered by snow and ice. I suspect the creatures of the forest that use summer preparations to fend off winter’s want are so inclined because the good Lord instilled in them that instinct. It is a shame, however, that most of the forest creatures do not prepare better for winter.
Even though I do not have the sense to go south for the winter, I am relieved as I survey my winter’s supply of wood safely gathered and covered against Jack Frost’s blowing rain, snow and sleet. All summer long, I have been looking ahead and providing what I thought I might need for the winter months. The chicken, duck and guinea shelters are all properly equipped with light and heat and appropriate equipment is in place with which to supply food and water.
Although I must guard against the egotistical assurance of the rich fool in Christ’s parable, Luke 12:16-21, I do feel a certain satisfaction in being prepared for winter’s challenges. As prepared as I think I am, just like the little creatures that depend on me to help them through the winter, I too, must depend on others. The power company and the feed store must supply what I need to care for the innocent ones who come to their feeders expecting to find the day’s nourishment. Perhaps the squirrels are wise not to depend on me without a backup plan.
If one thinks it through, all sorts of people and circumstances are part of the chain which ultimately provides for that tiny titmouse which dines at my feeder. Every day he appears for his few morsels of sustenance, not knowing that there is a whole host of people and circumstances that must faithfully carry out their part in providing his breakfast menu. Seed for the farmer, field preparation, cooperative weather, farm equipment, storage, packaging, transportation, middlemen, my resources – all form parts of a cooperative process which ends at my feeders.
What drives this procession? I suppose one could say that money is the driver. After all, if I, and others like me, did not pay what the feed store wants for the feed, the whole process would come to a grinding halt. Perhaps, however, we might look a little deeper for a principle that has a more meaningful application.
What is the value of a titmouse, squirrel or a guinea? I was once offered the opportunity to taste squirrel pot pie. Even if they are delicious, I much prefer seeing live squirrels at my feeder rather than cooked ones on my dinner plate. I find watching the antics of the two squirrels and the rest of the feeder community a great blessing worth much more than a moment’s culinary satisfaction.
As in The Wind in the Willows, I celebrate the life of God’s diminutive creatures. I wonder if perhaps this principle might be applied more generally; especially in the rarified atmosphere of civil government. For far too long, the little person (perhaps you, but definitely me) has been of little importance, except as a vote, in the view of our “for the people” government.
Possibly our current society is training would-be leaders to be more concerned with the rich and famous than us common Joes. The poor, the mentally challenged, the different, those who are not movers and shakers, and just ordinary people who “shower after work” rather than before, should be included in the celebration of life by “important” people as they go about shaping America. Perhaps, just perhaps, we commoners will soon witness such a long anticipated change in Washington
DeWitt Clinton of Dunbar is the minister for the Church of Christ Church on Connellsville Street in Uniontown.