Two Curve-billed thrashers at the new birdfeeder yesterday afternoon while Barbara and I were eating our lunch. I don't think I've ever seen one, but my mother knew right away by my scant description--long curved beak. I got the bird book and asked her why not a Crissal's. She said they're not nearly as common, and it's a bit northerly for them.
My mother is a widow of 14 months. Fifty years of her life she spent watching, listening to, banding, studying birds--with my dad. When I got here to Silver City, she told me she has no interest in birds anymore. But all that knowledge is in her head, and she can't help it. The first bird to our new feeder was a plain titmouse. I hurried back to her room to tell her, and she said, "How exciting!" She can't help it. Though she has told me she doesn't get excited about anything anymore, she just can't help it because she is naturally a cheery person. Every bone in her body, and nerve and muscle, is filled with optimism. She had a "flat morning" the other day, but it wasn't an hour before she was back on her emotional feet. My mother is 92. She was married to my dad for nearly 65 years at his death. Half of her is gone. But she can't help being happy and optimistic and positive even so.
What an example she is to me--to us all.
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