At year's end, celebrate the cycle

The birds of the air offer a view of how life goes on, with hope

Among the honored visitors to our kitchen viewing station in Upstate America. (RS photo)

We have hung birdfeeders just a few feet beyond the big window in our kitchen, so that in this season of the year we can routinely witness the visits of winged wonders. A beloved elderly friend used to scoff at the idea of feeding birds — “Makes them welfare cases,” he would grumble amiably, though he, too, clearly admired the transients, as long as he wasn’t sponsoring their supposed indolence. But it doesn’t matter that what we now spend on black-oil sunflower seeds could’ve fed my family of five for a week in the 1950s. The birds bring us joy.

One recent morning, as the post-Christmas temperature hovered in the single digits, a pileated woodpecker that must’ve been a foot-and-a-half long attached for a while to our suet feeder. The pileated is a magnificent creature; it is among the largest and most striking forest birds in North America, with a profile evoking prehistoric pterodactyls. They thrive in areas with dead trees and fallen logs, like the woods surrounding our place. There they can pursue insects, including their favorite food: carpenter ants. The woodpeckers’ aggressive whacking leaves unique rectangular holes in the fallen trees, which then become nests of other animals, including owls and bats. The owls, which we hear often but see rarely, control rodent populations; the bats are welcome because they’re ravenous eaters in the months when they’re not hibernating. On a hot summer night, a single brown bat can consume a thousand mosquito-sized insects in an hour.

So there I was this week, in the warmth of our Upstate kitchen, admiring a pileated woodpecker and reflecting with some satisfaction on our role in nature’s order: Because we delight in seeing that bright red crest above bold white stripes, we provide food that supports the pileated woodpecker population. Those woodpeckers, in turn, create homes for owls and bats, whose dining habits help to keep our back yard’s ecosystem in balance. It’s that cycle-of-life thing, you know.

There’s a spiritual element to all this, too. In some cultures, the woodpecker is seen as a symbol of persistence and focus. Its rhythmic pecking evokes the heart’s beating, suggesting alignment with the pulse of life. Its bright plumage suggests vitality and strength.

All these notions can be helpful to consider as we near the year’s end. News of the day sometimes overwhelms us or leaves us worried that what we cherish won’t survive, and life’s challenges and losses confront us regularly. It seems that we are so often reminded that what is eventually becomes what was. But then come the joys of the season we’ve been living: some time turning away from the threats of the day, perhaps; a brisk walk on a bright winter day, extra contact with loved ones, some inspiring music, kind wishes from strangers — and, from the kitchen window, moments admiring a superstar of nature. Hope can be restored in all this.

Because my childhood was fortunately imbued with the great literature of Judeo-Christian scripture, moments like these bring to mind comforting phrases — in this case, a passage in the Gospel of Matthew in which Jesus seemed to celebrate the notion of letting go: He is quoted as citing the divine protection enjoyed by “the birds of the air (who) neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns,” then concluding, “And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?”

Good question, right? If we pay attention to all that this season offers, we may feel a bit of rebirth. It might help us cope with the sense that has gripped us recently, that our troubled nation is facing some grim days and that the world order itself is in peril. I always take some comfort from the appearance of the pileated woodpecker, with its prehistoric mien and vital presence.

And this, then, becomes a good time for reflection, for calming, for hope.

Perhaps you saw my announcement on social media that The Upstate American wouldn’t publish this week; I had planned to take the day off. But then came the pileated woodpecker, and I had to share its gifts with you. So I thank you for being a reader of The Upstate American, for sharing my love and hope for this great land, and for your commitment to its preservation. Let’s keep the connection going next year. There will be more to celebrate then, too.

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MORE FROM THE UPSTATE AMERICAN

IF YOU’D LIKE TO HEAR MORE from Rex Smith, check www.wamc.org for his weekly on-air commentary aired by Northeast Public Radio. Here’s a link to the latest essay.

IF YOU’RE INTERESTED IN THE NEWS MEDIA, download the podcast of The Media Project, the 30-minute nationally-syndicated discussion that Rex leads each week on current issues in journalism. In the seven states where Northeast Public Radio is heard, the program airs at 3 p.m. (Eastern) each Friday and is rebroadcast at 6 p.m. Sunday. You can tune in live at www.wamc.org, or download the podcast there to listen whenever you like.

The Media Project has been called “a half-hour of entertaining talk about finding and telling the truth.”

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DO YOU WANT TO LEARN TO WRITE OP-EDS?

If you’d like some training in writing opinion essays — for newspapers, audio or digital platforms — check out the live 90-minute class Rex co-teaches that is offered by Marion Roach Smith’s global platform for writing instruction, The Memoir Project. Click below for information on our upcoming schedule of classes.

Our next class is Wednesday, Jan. 15, at 6:30 p.m. Eastern.

Lots of our students have been well published — and you can be, too!

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THANK YOU for reading The Upstate American, and for joining us each week in the conversation about our common ground, this great country. I hope you’ll join us again next week, and send a message with ideas you’d like to see us address.

-REX SMITH