One of the great advantages of being a morning person is getting to enjoy watching the Breakfast Flock in my backyard. I have a very civilized group of birds who have taken it upon themselves to organize their visits to my two feeders in shifts. At dawn, the tiny wrens get first pick; after awhile the quail show up with their echoing cries; finally the pigeons come lumbering in like bulky cargo planes to fill up. Now and then, I get more exotic birds: a screeching blue jay will stop by and bully everyone for awhile. Soon, however, the Breakfast Flock returns to its feeding schedule. About once a day, a squirrel I’ve named Bandit, sneaks under the back fence and helps himself. Often he shimmies right up the thin metal pole of the feeder and perches on top, reaching right down into the tray to snatch the best sunflower seeds.
It’s probably not important that any of my visitors make the connection between “that clumsy human who lives at the house” and their feeders being regularly filled. Sometimes, especially in the winter when I haven’t realized the feeders are empty, the cheeps and chirps change and take on a prayerful, pleading sound. I don’t think they’re trying to send me a message, but I suspect they are pleading with the One whose eye is on the sparrow. As I watch them this fine summer morning, they aren’t thinking about far away winter; they just speak of their own excitement and gratitude at finding food for the day.
The eyes of all wait upon thee; and thou givest them their meat in due season.
– Ps 145:15