Fritzi would love it. We have a brown thrasher hanging around the hedge and picnic table behind our office. I tell a young coworker fairly new to birding, and he shares my excitement. He wants to rush down the back stairs for a sight of the bird. "Is it a mimidae?," he asks.
Sad to admit I don't know, but the patchy sunlight through the cottonwood made its brown feathers glow. Feeling close to my mother, and closer to this coworker through appreciating a brown reclusive bird. My mom would have like this young fellow! She would have saved up all her Rx bottles and hearing aide batteries for him to recycle.
I love how the generations weave and wave and make connections through nature observation. Took photos of the fish in our creek for IDs, and remembered how my dad, Howie, would get teary during those "take your kids fishing" ads on tv. For a bit I forgot what an obnoxious guy Dad became at the end of his life, and remembered the father who baited the hook.
Met some teens celebrating the last day of school at Oak Point. Flood debris had remade the trail map. It will be awhile before any generation find our way.
Say it loud and it's music playing. Say it soft and it's almost like praying. Mimidae.
© 2014-2015 Nancy L. Ruder