Wild Delicate Seconds: 29 Wildlife Encounters

Red-shafted Flicker

Red-shafted Flicker 38 Red-shafted Flicker There is a calmness birds bring to people, a steadiness they impart to even the most frenzied of lives. After a long winter their cheery voices are like a tonic we drink with our ears, and the soft flutter of their wings, the quiet mutterings they speak to each other,are like reminders of a distant,gentler time. For a chickadee to land on one’s finger is like having the very thing of nature visit the self.Tiny claws dig into the skin, blood and bone rest on our own, there is the inquisitive cock of its head. Such moments leave one feeling slightly askew, as if a part of us was missing or not quite filled. I have both witnessed and felt such an epiphany in the company of birds,their gentle cooing assuaging a loneliness I wasn’t aware that I had. It was late in the afternoon and I’d come inside from chopping wood. Taking off my boots, I was startled when a large bird rose from the back of a chair. It flew directly in front of me, and I cringed when it smashed into a window. Hardly had it dropped with a thump then it picked itself up, flew in the opposite direction and slammed into another. It was a red-shafted flicker, a member of the woodpecker family. Large, handsome birds, they are smoke-gray and thundercloud blue,a summer storm with orange tail feathers burning through. They’re often seen tapping holes in the cedar fascia of homes, and in the air have a distinctive patch of white on the rump, also a seductive, undulating, roller-coaster-like flight. Quickly crossing the few feet that separated us, I threw a towel over its shoulders and picked the bird up in my hands. Wild Delicate Seconds 39 It was an adult male.A comma of rescue orange was splashed on each cheek.There was the crescent-shaped bib of black under the chin, and below it a spectacular black and white polka dot chest. As I smoothed this chest with my thumb,the flicker opened his beak but did not make a sound.Then he cranked his head side to side, carving figure eights in the air.When his eye lit on mine it stayed. The feathers around it were soft gray, a black pupil resting there like a drop of pure oil. I was looking into a minute disc of Japanese lacquer.A chip of ebony broken off from a moonless night sky. It was a great boon is all I’m going to tell you: to hold that bird and forget my place among things. Many times I’ve come across wild animals in the woods. I know the heightened sense of awareness such encounters can bring.With the flicker there was a great calmness. It spread through the room. Loren Eiseley said,“One does not meet oneself until one catches the reflection from an eye other than human.” I nodded and stood. With the flicker I walked outside into the sunshine. I spent thirty seconds holding that bird. I don’t think I can be blamed for holding on a little too long, a little too tightly.They were wild, delicate seconds, like the ones that make up childhood. Then I opened my hands. ...