On the Wing #1: First Flight

All stories have a beginning and this one begins in my parent's back garden, in a little house called Dinas-Powas in the southeast portion of Wales. I was about four and had gone into the garden to explore and walk Sammy, our Welsh Springer Spaniel for a bit. Having been so long ago, I remember little of the day itself, but I do know that I was wearing wellies and that the sky was its typical stone grey with a few white wisps of cloud. The garden was a typical British one, huge for a four year old, but contained by high garden fences with a border of decorative plant life surrounding the lawn in the middle. The plant border was made up of flowers, small trees, and shrubs that bloomed beautifully in the warmer months and defied the gloom that almost always hung over the Welsh countryside.

As I walked around the garden, a small dark shape caught my attention. A Eurasian Blackbird (Turdus merula) digging for worms and other invertebrate life in the soil. Its black plumage and contrasting yellow bill and eye ring caught my eye immediately as it ceased in its search for ground-dwelling morsels. We eyed each other for a moment, then in a burst of four year old glee, I ran at the bird with the high hope that I'd be able to catch it. Obedient as always, Sammy followed suit, curious for what my intentions might be for this small, winged creature. As expected, the blackbird met this challenge with the ancient instinct to flee from this dangerous, two-legged wellie monster. It flew away from me and over the fence into the countryside beyond.

Most people would assume this to be the end of the story, but for me it was only the beginning. I remember feeling not disappointment at my inability to catch the bird, but instead a deep wonder at how the once ground-bound creature had sprung from the ground into the air. How had it done it? How did its wings work? How much did it have to weigh for it to have been able to lift off like that? Questions flooded my head. I was mesmerized and wanted to know more. Much more! From this point on, my life has been one lived for the birds. I twitch every time I hear a twitter or chirp coming from a nearby hedge. I freeze in the presence of mere sparrows to watch their daily antics. I'm beguiled by tales of birds from far off places with long names and strange customs. There is nothing more pleasing than experiencing the wonders that these creatures present. Whether it be in the pond, the field, the woods, or the city, as long as I can glimpse these feathered miracles, I am a happy man indeed.